THE  LIBRARY 
OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OE  CALIEORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


FROM  THE  LIBRARY  OF 

JIM  TULLY 

GIFT  OF 
MRS.  JIM  TULLY 


THE   WORKS   OF 
WILLIAM   MAKEPEACE   THACKERAY 


CORNHILL    EDITION 
VOLUME    XX 


f  ^  .^fc-^. 


i^2Gr>*  «x^'"^Jtn«s(  .^ 


-n^ 


*  T  ft?  Hi   s^jhij; 


The  Site  of  Terre's  Tavern 

{The  Ballad  of  BiniUlabuisHt) 


BALLADS 


AND    TALES 


BY 


WILLIAM  MAKEPEACE   THACKERAY 


NEW  YORK 

CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 

1911 


Copyright,  1904,  by 
Charles  Scribner's  Sons 


PIZ 


NOTE 

Thackeray's  Ballads  were  fii-st  collected  in  1855  as 
the  first  volume  of  the  "  Miscellanies  "  issued  by  Brad- 
bury h  Evans.  Their  original  places  of  publication  had 
been  many;  by  far  the  greater  number  had  appeared  in 
Punch;  others  in  Fraser  and  the  other  magazines  for 
which  Thackeray  habitually  wrote ;  some  in  newspapers. 
"  The  Chronicle  of  the  Drum  "  had  had  book  publication 
before,  in  a  little  volume  in  1841  (with  "  The  Second 
Funeral  of  Napoleon  ") ,  and  the  Imitations  of  Beranger 
had  been  in  the  Paris  Sketch  Book;  while  many  of  the 
others,  hke  "  At  the  Church  Gate,"  will,  of  course,  be 
recognized  as  taken  from  their  places  in  the  novels  and 
in  various  stories.  As  printed  in  the  revised  edition  of 
the  works,  and  here,  the  original  collection  in  the  "  Mis- 
cellanies "  has  been  greatly  enlarged  by  poems  published 
since  its  date. 

"  Men's  Wives  "  appeared  in  Fraser' s  Magazine  in 
1843— a  continuation  of  or  pendant  to  the  "  Confessions 
of  Fitz-Boodle  "  of  the  previous  year. 

"  The  History  of  the  Next  French  Revolution  "  ap- 


833211 


peared  in  Punch  in  1844.  "Cox's  Diary"  was  first  pub- 
lished, with  illustrations  by  Cruikshank,  in  the  Comic 
Almanac  for  1840,  under  the  title  of  "Barber  Cox  and 
the  Cutting  of  his  Comb. ' ' 

The  frontispiece  to  this  volume  is  reproduced  from  a 
photograph  of  the  site  of  Terre's  restaurant,  celebrated 
in  "The  Ballad  of  Bouillabaisse,"  as  it  appeared  in 
1904.  The  photograph  has  a  history  of  its  own;  for 
the  rue  neuve  des  Petits  Champs  having  merged  its 
identity  in  the  general  "rue  des  Petits  Champs," 
and  the  numbering  having  been  entirely  changed  (we 
know  from  Mr.  Crowe  and  the  guide-books  that 
Terre's  original  number  was  16),  it  was  necessary 
to  call  into  requisition  the  old  municipal  and  police 
maps  of  the  Paris  of  the  earher  thirties,  with  their 
names  of  proprietors,  occupants,  etc.  Permission  to 
do  this  having  been  accorded,  their  information,  with 
a  few  measurements  from  fixed  points,  established  the 
site  beyond  a  doubt,  and  the  building  was  found  not  to 
have  been  greatly  changed  in  seventy  years. 


vi 


CONTENTS 

BALLADS 

PAGE 

The  Chronicle  of  the  Drum,  Part  I 1 

"                "          Part  II 9 

Abd-el-Kader  at  Toulon:  or,  the  Caged  Hawk     .     .  19 

The  King  of  Brentford's  Testament 21 

The  White  Squall ^0 

Peg  of  Limavaddy ^^ 

May-Day   Ode ^^ 

The  Ballad  of  Bouillabaisse 46 

The  Mahogany  Tree 49 

The  Yankee  Volunteers 51 

The  Pen  and  the  Album ^^ 

Mrs.  Katherine's  Lantern 56 

Lucy's   Birthday 58 

The  Cane-Bottom'd  Chair 59 

PlSCATOR    AND    PiSCATRIX ^^ 

The  Rose  upon  my  Balcony 64 

ronsard  to  his  mistress 65 

At  THE  Church  Gate "" 

The  Age  of  Wisdom " ' 

Sorrows  of  Werther ""' 

A  Doe  in  the  City ""' 

Tii 


viii  CONTENTS 

PAGE 

The  Last  of  May 72 

"  Ah,  Bleak  and  Barren  was  the  Moor  " 73 

Song  of  the  Violet 74* 

Fairy  Days 75 

Pocahontas 77 

From  Pocahontas 78 


LOVE-SONGS   MADE   EASY 

What  makes  my  Heart  to  Thrill  and  Glow?.     .     .  79 
The  Ghazul,  or  Oriental  Love-song: — 

The  Rocks 82 

The  Merry  Bard 83 

The  Caique 84 

My  Nora 86 

To   Mary .  87 

Serenade 88 

The  Minaret  Bells         89 

Come  to  the  Greenwood  Tree 90 


FIVE   GERMAN    DITTIES 

A  Tragic  Story 91 

The  Chaplet 92 

The  King  on  the  Tower 93 


CONTENTS  IX 

PAGE 

On  a  very  old  Woman 

A    Credo       


94 
95 


FOUR   IMITATIONS   OF   B^RANGER 

Le  Roi  d'Yvetot 97 

The  King  of  Yvetot 99 

The  King  of  Brentford 101 

Le  Grenier 102 

The  Garret 103 

roger-bontemps 10^ 

Jolly  Jack ^07 


IMITATION   OF   HORACE 

To  his  Serving  Boy HO 

Ad  Ministram HI 


OLD   FRIENDS   WITH   NEW   FACES 

The  Knightly  Guerdon 112 

The   Almack's    Adieu 113 

When  the  Gloom  is  on  the  Glen 115 


X  CONTENTS 

PAGE 

The  Red  Flag 116 

Dear  Jack 117 

Commanders  of  the  Faithful 118 

When  Moonlike  ore  the  Hazure  Seas 119 

The  Legend  of  St.  Sophia  of  Kioff *  120 

King   Canute 143 

Friar's  Song 147 

Atra  Cura 148 

Requiescat 149 

Lines  upon  my  Sister's  Portrait 150 

Titmarsh's  Carmen  Lilliense 152 

The  Willow-Tree 157 

The  Willow-Tree  (another  version) 159 


LYRA    HIBERNICA 


The  Pimlico  Pavilion 165 

The  Crystal  Palace 168 

Molony's  Lament 173 

Mr.  Molony's  Account  of  the  Ball  given  to  the 
Nepaulese  Ambassador  by  the  Peninsular  and  Ori- 

JENTAL  Company 176 

The  Battle  of  Limerick 179 

Larry  O'Toole 183 

The  Rose  of  Flora 184 

The  Last  Irish  Grievance 185 


CONTENTS  XI 

THE   BALLADS   OF   POLICEMAN   X 


PAGE 


The  Wofle  New  Ballad  of  Jane  Roney  and  Maky 


Brown ^^^ 

The  Three  Christmas  Waits 189 

Lines  on  a  late  Hospicious  Ewent 195 

The  Ballad  of  Eliza  Davis 200 

Damages,  Two  Hundred  Pounds •     •  205 

The  Knight  and  the  Lady 208 

Jacob  Homnium's  Hoss 211 

The  Speculators '*^" 

A  Woeful  New  Ballad  of  the  Protestant  Conspir- 
acy TO  TAKE  the  PoPE's  LiFE 217 

The   Lamentable   Ballad   of   the   Foundling    of 

221 
Shoreditch 


226 

Little  Billee 


The  Organ-boy's  Appeal 

228 

230 


The  End  of  the  Play 

Vanitas  Vanitatum 


TALES 
MEN'S  WIVES 


The  Ravenswing: 

CHAPTER 

I  Which  is  entirely  Introductory— Contains  an 
Account  of  Miss  Crump,  her  Suitors,  and  her 
Family  Circle 239 


xii  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

II  In  which  Mr.  Walker  makes  Three  Attempts 

TO   ASCERTAIN   THE   DWELLING   OF   MoRGIANA       .       266 

III  What  came  of  Mr.  Walker's  Discovery  of  the 

"Bootjack" 282 

IV  In   which   the   Heroine   has   a   Number   more 

Lovers,  and  cuts  a  very  Dashing  Figure  in 

the  World 295 

v  In  which  Mr.  Walker  falls  into  Difficulties, 
AND  Mrs.  Walker  makes  many  foolish  At- 
tempts   TO    RESCUE    HIM 320 

VI  In  which  Mr.  Walker  still  remains  in  Diffi- 
culties, BUT  SHOWS  GREAT  RESIGNATION  UNDER 

his  Misfortunes 346 

VII  In  WHICH  Morgiana  advances  towards  Fame 
AND  Honour,  and  in  which  several  great 
Literary  Characters  make  their  Appear- 
ance     362 

vm  In  which  Mr.  Walker  shows  great  Prudence 

AND  Forbearance 383 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Frank  Berry 

I  The  Fight  at  Slaughter  House 402 

II  The  Combat  at  Versailles 411 

Dennis  Haggarty's  Wife 434 


THE   HISTORY   OF   THE   NEXT   FRENCH    REVOLUTION 

I 463 

n  Henry  V.  and  Napoleon  III 469 

ni  The  Advance  of  the  Pretenders — Historical 

Review 4*78 


CONTENTS  xiii 

CHAPTER 

IV  The  Battle  of  Rheims 4<84< 

V  The  Battle  of  Tours ^jST 

VI  The  English  Under  Jenkins 4)95 

VII  The  Leaguer  of  Paris 502 

vm  The  Battle  of  the  Forts 507 

DC  Louis   XVII 510 


COX'S   DIARY 


January— The   Announcement 519 

February— First  Rout 524 

March— A  Day  with  the  Surrey  Hounds 529 

April— The  Finishing  Touch 535 

May— A  New  Drop-Scene  at  the  Opera 540 

June— Striking  a  Balance 545 

July— Down  at  Beulah 550 

August— A  Tournament 556 

September— Over-boarded  and  Under-lodged  .     .     .  561 

October— Notice  to  Quit 567 

November— Law  Life  Assurance 572 

December— Family  Bustle 5/7 


BALLADS 


BALLADS 


THE   CHRONICLE   OF   THE  DRUM 


Part   I 

At  Paris,  hard  by  the  Maine  barriers, 

Whoever  will  choose  to  repair, 
Midst  a  dozen  of  wooden-legged  warriors 

May  haply  fall  in  with  old  Pierre. 
On  the  sunshiny  bench  of  a  tavern 

He  sits  and  he  prates  of  old  wars. 
And  moistens  his  pipe  of  tobacco 

With  a  drink  that  is  named  after  Mars. 

The  beer  makes  his  tongue  run  the  quicker. 

And  as  long  as  his  tap  never  fails. 
Thus  over  his  favourite  liquor 

Old  Peter  will  tell  his  old  tales. 
Says  he,  "  In  my  life's  ninety  summers 

Strange  changes  and  chances  I've  seen,— 
So  here's  to  all  gentlemen  drummers 

That  ever  have  thump'd  on  a  skin. 


BALLADS 

"  Brought  up  in  the  art  mihtary 

For  four  generations  we  are; 
My  ancestors  drunim'd  for  King  Harry, 

The  Huguenot  lad  of  Navarre. 
And  as  each  man  in  hfe  has  his  station 

According  as  Fortune  may  fix, 
While  Conde  was  waving  the  baton, 

My  grandsire  was  trolling  the  sticks. 

"  Ah  !   those  were  the  days  for  commanders ! 

What  glories  my  grandfather  won. 
Ere  bigots,  and  lackeys,  and  panders 

The  fortunes  of  France  had  undone ! 
In  Germany,  Flanders,  and  Holland, — 

What  foeman  resisted  us  then? 
No ;  my  grandsire  was  ever  victorious, 

My  grandsire  and  Monsieur  Turenne. 

*'  He  died :  and  our  noble  battalions 

The  jade  fickle  Fortune  forsook; 
And  at  Blenheim,  in  spite  of  our  valiance, 

The  victory  lay  with  Malbrook. 
The  news  it  was  brought  to  King  Louis; 

Corbleu  !   how  his  Majesty  swore 
When  he  heard  they  had  taken  my  grandsire 

And  twelve  thousand  gentlemen  more. 

"  At  Namur,  Ramillies,  and  Malplaquet 

Were  we  posted,  on  plain  or  in  trench: 
Malbrook  only  need  to  attack  it 

And  awa}'  from  him  scamper'd  we  French. 
Cheer  up !    'tis  no  use  to  be  glum,  boys, — 

'Tis  written,  since  fighting  begun, 
That  sometimes  we  fight  and  we  conquer, 

And  sometimes  we  fight  and  we  run. 


THE    CHRONICLE   OF   THE   DRUM      3 

"  To  fiffht  and  to  run  was  our  fate : 

Our  fortune  and  fame  had  departed. 
And  so  perish'd  Louis  the  Great, — 

Old,  lonely,  and  half  broken-hearted. 
His  coffin  they  pelted  with  mud, 

His  bod}'^  they  tried  to  lay  hands  on ; 
And  so  having  buried  King  Louis 

They  loyally  served  his  great-grandson. 

"  God  save  the  beloved  King  Louis ! 

(For  so  he  was  nicknamed  by  some,) 
And  now  came  my  father  to  do  his 

King's  orders  and  beat  on  the  drum. 
My  grandsire  was  dead,  but  his  bones 

Must  have  shaken  I'm  certain  for  joy, 
To  hear  daddy  drumming  the  English 

From  the  meadows  of  famed  Fontenoy. 

"  So  well  did  he  drum  in  that  battle 

That  the  enemy  show'd  us  their  backs ; 
Corbleu  !   it  was  pleasant  to  rattle 

The  sticks  and  to  follow  old  Saxe! 
We  next  had  Soubise  as  a  leader, 

And  as  luck  hath  its  changes  and  fits, 
At  Rossbach,  in  spite  of  dad's  drumming, 

'Tis  said  we  were  beaten  by  Fritz. 

"  And  now  daddy  cross'd  the  Atlantic, 

To  drum  for  Montcalm  and  his  men ; 
Morbleu  !   but  it  makes  a  man  frantic 

To  think  we  were  beaten  again! 
Mv  daddy  he  cross'd  the  wide  ocean. 

My  mother  brought  me  on  her  neck, 
And  we  came  in  the  year  fifty-seven 

To  guard  the  good  town  of  Quebec. 


BALLADS 

"  In  the  year  fifty-nine  came  the  Britons, — 

Full  well  I  remember  the  day,— 
They  knocked  at  our  gates  for  admittance. 

Their  vessels  were  moor'd  in  our  bay. 
Says  our  general,  '  Drive  me  yon  red-coats 

Away  to  the  sea  whence  they  come ! ' 
So  we  march'd  against  Wolfe  and  his  bull-dogs. 

We  marched  at  the  sound  of  the  drum. 

**  I  think  I  can  see  my  poor  mammy 

With  me  in  her  hand  as  she  waits. 
And  our  regiment,  slowly  retreating, 

Pours  back  through  the  citadel  gates. 
Dear  mammy  she  looks  in  their  faces. 

And  asks  if  her  husband  is  come.'' 
—  He  is  lying  all  cold  on  the  glacis. 

And  will  never  more  beat  on  the  drum. 

"  Come,  drink,  'tis  no  use  to  be  glum,  boys. 
He  died  like  a  soldier  in  glory ; 
Here's  a  glass  to  the  health  of  all  drum-boys. 

And  now  I'll  commence  my  own  story. 
Once  more  did  we  cross  the  salt  ocean. 

We  came  in  the  year  eighty-one ; 
And  the  wrongs  of  my  father  the  drummer 
Were  avenged  by  the  drummer  his  son. 

"  In  Chesapeak  Bay  we  were  landed. 

In  vain  strove  the  British  to  pass : 
Rochambeau  our  armies  commanded. 

Our  ships  they  were  led  by  De  Grasse. 
Morbleu !    how  I  rattled  the  drumsticks 

The  day  we  march'd  into  Yorktown ; 
Ten  thousand  of  beef-eating  British 

Their  weapons  we  caused  to  lay  down. 


THE    CHROXICLE   OF   THE   DRUM 

"  Then  homewards  returning  victorious, 

In  peace  to  our  country  we  came, 
And  were  thanked  for  our  glorious  actions 

By  Louis  Sixteenth  of  tlie  name. 
What  drummer  on  earth  could  be  prouder 

Than  I,  while  I  drumm'd  at  Versailles 
To  the  lovely  court  ladies  in  powder, 

And  lappets,  and  long  satin-tails? 

"  The  Princes  that  day  pass'd  before  us, 

Our  countrymen's  glory  and  hope ; 
Monsieur,  who  was  learned  in  Horace, 

D'Artois,  who  could  dance  the  tight-rope. 
One  night  we  kept  guard  for  the  Queen 

At  her  Majesty's  opera-box. 
While  the  King,  that  majestical  monarch, 

Sat  filing  at  home  at  his  locks. 

"  Yes,  I  drumm'd  for  the  fair  Antoinette, 

And  so  smiling  she  look'd  and  so  tender, 
That  our  officers,  privates,  and  drummers. 

All  vow'd  they  would  die  to  defend  her. 
But  she  cared  not  for  us  honest  fellows. 

Who  fought  and  who  bled  in  her  wars, 
She  sneer'd  at  our  gallant  Rochambeau, 

And  turned  Lafayette  out  of  doors. 

"  Ventrebleu  !  then  I  swore  a  great  oath, 

No  more  to  such  tyrants  to  kneel. 
And  so  just  to  keep  up  my  drumming. 

One  day  I  drumm'd  down  the  Bastille. 
Ho,  landlord  !  a  stoup  of  fresh  wine. 

Come,  comrades,  a  bumper  we'll  try, 
And  drink  to  the  year  eighty-nine 

And  the  glorious  fourth  of  July ! 


BALLADS 

*'  Then  bravely  our  cannon  it  thunder'd 

As  onwards  our  patriots  bore. 
Our  enemies  were  but  a  hundred, 

And  we  twenty  thousand  or  more. 
They  carried  the  news  to  King  Louis. 

He  heard  it  as  calm  as  you  please, 
And,  like  a  majestical  monarch, 

Kept  filing  his  locks  and  his  keys. 

"  We  show'd  our  republican  courage, 

We  storm'd  and  we  broke  the  great  gate  in. 
And  we  murder'd  the  insolent  governor 

For  daring  to  keep  us  a-waiting. 
Lambesc  and  his  squadrons  stood  by : 

They  never  stirr'd  finger  or  thumb. 
The  saucy  aristocrats  trembled 

As  they  heard  the  republican  drum. 

"  Hurrah !  what  a  storm  was  a-brewing : 

The  day  of  our  vengeance  was  come ! 
Through  scenes  of  what  carnage  and  ruin 

Did  I  beat  on  the  patriot  drum ! 
Let's  drink  to  the  famed  tenth  of  August: 

At  midnight  I  beat  the  tattoo. 
And  woke  up  the  Pikemen  of  Paris 

To  follow  the  bold  Barbaroux. 

"  With  pikes,  and  with  shouts,  and  with  torches 

March'd  onwards  our  dusty  battalions. 
And  we  girt  the  tall  castle  of  Louis, 

A  million  of  tatterdemalions ! 
We  storm'd  the  fair  gardens  where  tower'd 

The  walls  of  his  heritage  splendid. 
Ah,  shame  on  him,  craven  and  coward. 

That  had  not  the  heart  to  defend  it ! 


THE    CHRONICLE   OF   THE   DRUM 

"  With  the  crown  of  his  sires  on  his  head, 

His  nobles  and  knights  by  his  side, 
At  the  foot  of  his  ancestors'  palace 

'Twere  easy,  methinks,  to  have  died. 
But  no :  when  we  burst  through  his  barriers, 

Mid  heaps  of  the  dying  and  dead. 
In  vain  through  the  chambers  we  sought  him — 

He  had  turn'd  like  a  craven  and  fled. 


"  You  all  know  the  Place  de  la  Concorde? 

'Tis  hard  by  the  Tuilerie  wall. 
Mid  terraces,  fountains,  and  statues, 

There  rises  an  obelisk  tall. 
There  rises  an  obelisk  tall, 

All  garnish'd  and  gilded  the  base  is: 
'Tis  surely  the  gayest  of  all 

Our  beautiful  city's  gay  places. 

"  Around  it  are  gardens  and  flowers, 

And  the  Cities  of  France  on  their  thrones, 
Each  crown'd  with  his  circlet  of  flowers 

Sits  watching  this  biggest  of  stones ! 
I  love  to  go  sit  in  the  sun  there, 

The  flowers  and  fountains  to  see. 
And  to  think  of  the  deeds  that  were  done  there 

In  the  glorious  year  ninety-three. 

"  'Twas  here  stood  the  Altar  of  Freedom ; 

And  though  neither  marble  nor  gilding 
Was  used  in  those  days  to  adorn 

Our  simple  republican  building, 
Corbleu  !   but  the  mkrf,  giut.t-otine 

Cared  little  for  sj)lc"ndour  or  show, 
So  you  gave  her  an  axe  and  a  beam, 

And  a  ])lank  and  a  basket  or  so. 


BALLADS 

"  Awful,  and  proud,  and  erect, 

Here  sat  our  republican  goddess. 
Each  morning  her  table  we  deck'd 
With  dainty  aristocrats'  bodies. 
The  people  each  day  flocked  around 

As  she  sat  at  her  meat  and  her  wine: 
.  'Twas  always  the  use  of  our  nation 
To  witness  the  sovereign  dine. 

"  Young  virgins  with  fair  golden  tresses, 

Old  silver-hair'd  prelates  and  priests, 
Dukes,  marquises,  barons,  princesses. 

Were  splendidly  served  at  her  feasts. 
Ventrebleu !  but  we  pamper'd  our  ogress 

With  the  best  that  our  nation  could  bring, 
And  dainty  she  grew  in  her  progress. 

And  called  for  the  head  of  a  King ! 

"  She  called  for  the  blood  of  our  King, 

And  straight  from  his  prison  we  drew  him ; 
And  to  her  with  shouting  we  led  him, 

And  took  him,  and  bound  him,  and  slew  him. 
'  The  monarchs  of  Europe  against  me 
Have  plotted  a  godless  alliance: 
I'll  fling  them  the  head  of  King  Louis,' 
She  said,  '  as  my  gage  of  defiance.' 

"  I  see  him  as  now,  for  a  moment, 
Away  from  his  gaolers  he  broke; 
And  stood  at  the  foot  of  the  scaff'old. 

And  linger'd,  and  fain  would  have  spoke. 
'  Ho,  drummer  !  quick  !   silence  yon  Capet,' 
Says  Santerre,  '  with  a  beat  of  your  drum.' 
Lustily  then  did  I  tap  it. 

And  the  son  of  Saint  Louis  was  dumb. 
«  ♦  *  *  * 


THE   CHRONICLE   OF   THE   DRUM      9 


Part    II 

"  The  glorious  days  of  September 

Saw  many  aristocrats  fall ; 
'Twas  then  that  our  pikes  drunk  the  blood 

In  the  beautiful  breast  of  Lamballe. 
Pardi,  'twas  a  beautiful  lady ! 

I  seldom  have  look'd  on  her  like ; 
And  I  drumni'd  for  a  gallant  procession, 

That  marched  with  her  head  on  a  pike. 

"  Let's  show  the  pale  head  to  the  Queen, 

We  said — she'll  remember  it  well. 
She  looked  from  the  bars  of  her  prison, 

And  shriek'd  as  she  saw  it,  and  fell. 
We  set  up  a  shout  at  her  screaming, 

We  laugh'd  at  the  fright  she  had  shown 
At  the  sight  of  the  head  of  her  minion ; 

How  she'd  tremble  to  part  with  her  own. 

"  We  had  taken  the  head  of  King  Capet, 

We  called  for  the  blood  of  his  wife; 
Undaunted  she  came  to  the  scaffold. 

And  bared  her  fair  neck  to  the  knife. 
As  she  felt  the  foul  fingers  that  touch'd  her. 

She  shrunk,  but  she  deigned  not  to  speak: 
She  look'd  with  a  royal  disdain. 

And  died  with  a  blush  on  her  cheek ! 


10  BALLADS 

"  'Twas  thus  that  our  country  was  saved ; 

So  told  us  the  safety  committee! 
But  psha !     I've  the  heart  of  a  soldier, 

All  gentleness,  mercy,  and  pity. 
I  loathed  to  assist  at  such  deeds, 

And  my  drum  beat  its  loudest  of  tunes 
As  we  offered  to  justice  offended 

The  blood  of  the  bloody  tribunes. 

"  Away  with  such  foul  recollections ! 

No  more  of  the  axe  and  the  block ; 
I  saw  the  last  fight  of  the  sections, 

As  they  fell  'neath  our  guns  at  Saint  Rock. 
Young  Bonaparte  led  us  that  day ; 

When  he  sought  the  Italian  frontier, 
I  follow'd  my  gallant  young  captain, 

I  follow'd  him  many  a  long  year. 

"  We  came  to  an  army  in  rags. 

Our  general  was  but  a  boy 
When  we  first  saw  the  Austrian  flags 

Flaunt  proud  in  the  fields  of  Savoy. 
In  the  glorious  year  ninety-six, 

We  march'd  to  the  banks  of  the  Po ; 
I  carried  my  drum  and  my  sticks. 

And  we  laid  the  proud  Austrian  low. 

"  In  triumph  we  enter'd  Milan, 

We  seized  on  the  Mantuan  keys ; 
The  troops  of  the  Emperor  ran. 

And  the  Pope  he  fell  down  on  his  knees."  — 
Pierre's  comrades  here  call'd  a  fresh  bottle. 

And  clubbing  together  their  wealth. 
They  drank  to  the  Army  of  Italy, 

And  General  Bonaparte's  health. 


THE  CHRONICLE  OF  THE  DRUM      11 

The  drummer  now  bared  his  old  breast, 

And  show'd  us  a  plenty  of  scars, 
Rude  presents  that  Fortune  had  made  him, 

In  fifty  victorious  wars. 
«  This  came  when  I  follow'd  bold  Kleber— 

'Twas  shot  by  a  Mameluke  gun ; 
And  this  from  an  Austrian  sabre, 

When  the  field  of  Marengo  was  won. 

"  My  forehead  has  many  deep  furrows, 

But  this  is  the  deepest  of  all: 
A  Brunswicker  made  it  at  Jena, 

Beside  the  fair  river  of  Saal. 
This  cross,  'twas  the  Emperor  gave  it; 

(God  bless  him!)  it  covers  a  blow; 
I  had  it  at  Austerlitz  fight. 

As  I  beat  on  my  drum  in  the  snow. 

*'  'Twas  thus  that  we  conquer'd  and  fought ; 

But  wherefore  continue  the  story? 
There's  never  a  baby  in  France 

But  has  heard  of  our  chief  and  our  glory,— 
But  has  heard  of  our  chief  and  our  fame. 

His  sorrows  and  triumphs  can  tell. 
How  bravely  Napoleon  conquer'd. 

How  bravely  and  sadly  he  fell. 

"  It  makes  my  old  heart  to  beat  higher. 
To  think  of  the  deeds  that  I  saw ; 

I  follow'd  bold  Ney  through  the  fire. 
And  charged  at  the  side  of  Murat." 

And  so  did  old  Peter  continue 

His  story  of  twenty  brave  years ; 

His  audience  follow'd  with  comments- 
Rude  comments  of  curses  and  tears. 


12  BALLADS 

He  told  how  the  Prussians  in  vain 

Had  died  in  defence  of  their  land; 
His  audience  laugh'd  at  the  story, 

And  vow'd  that  their  captain  was  grand ! 
He  had  fought  the  red  English,  he  said, 

In  many  a  battle  of  Spain ; 
They  cursed  the  red  English,  and  prayed 

To  meet  them  and  fight  them  again. 

He  told  them  how  Russia  was  lost. 

Had  winter  not  driven  them  back ; 
And  his  company  cursed  the  quick  frost, 

And  doubly  they  cursed  the  Cossack. 
He  told  how  the  stranger  arrived; 

They  wept  at  the  tale  of  disgrace; 
And  they  long'd  but  for  one  battle  more, 

The  stain  of  their  shame  to  efface ! 

"  Our  country  their  hordes  overrun. 

We  fled  to  the  fields  of  Champagne, 
And  fought  them,  though  twenty  to  one, 

And  beat  them  again  and  again ! 
Our  warrior  was  conquer'd  at  last ; 

They  bade  him  his  crown  to  resign ; 
To  fate  and  his  country  he  yielded 

The  rights  of  himself  and  his  line. 

"  He  came,  and  among  us  he  stood, 

Around  him  we  press'd  in  a  throng: 

We  could  not  regard  him  for  weeping. 

Who  had  led  us  and  loved  us  so  long. 

*  I  have  led  you  for  twenty  long  years,' 

Napoleon  said,  ere  he  went ; 

*  Wherever  was  honour  I  found  you, 

And  with  you,  my  sons,  am  content ! 


THE  CHRONICLE  OF  THE  DRUM       13 

'  Though  Europe  against  me  was  arm'd, 
Your  chiefs  and  my  people  are  true ; 
I  still  might  have  struggled  with  fortune, 
And  baffled  all  Europe  with  you. 

"  '  But  France  would  have  suffer'd  the  while, 
'Tis  best  that  I  suffer  alone ; 
I  go  to  my  place  of  exile, 

To  write  of  the  deeds  we  have  done. 

"  '  Be  true  to  the  king  that  they  give  you, 
We  may  not  embrace  ere  we  part ; 
But,  General,  reach  me  your  hand. 
And  press  me,  I  pray,  to  your  heart.' 

"  He  call'd  for  our  battle  standard ; 
One  kiss  to  the  eagle  he  gave. 
'  Dear  eagle ! '  he  said,  '  may  this  kiss 

Long  sound  in  the  hearts  of  the  brave ! ' 
'Twas  thus  that  Napoleon  left  us; 

Our  people  were  weeping  and  mute. 
As  he  pass'd  through  the  lines  of  his  guard. 
And  our  drums  beat  the  notes  of  salute. 


"  I  look'd  when  the  drumming  was  o'er, 

I  look'd,  but  our  hero  was  gone; 
We  were  destined  to  see  him  once  more, 

When  he  fought  on  the  Mount  of  St.  John. 
The  Emperor  rode  through  our  files ; 

'Twas  June,  and  a  fair  Sunday  morn 
The  lines  of  our  warriors  for  miles 

Stretch'd  wide  through  the  Waterloo  corn. 


14  BALLADS 

*'  In  thousands  we  stood  on  the  plain, 

The  red-coats  were  crowning  the  height; 
'  Go  scatter  yon  English,'  he  said ; 

'  We'll  sup,  lads,  at  Brussels  to-night.' 
We  answer'd  his  voice  with  a  shout ; 

Our  eagles  were  bright  in  the  sun ; 
Our  drums  and  our  cannon  spoke  out, 
And  the  thundering  battle  begun. 

"  One  charge  to  another  succeeds, 

Like  waves  that  a  hurricane  bears ; 
All  day  do  our  galloping  steeds 

Dash  fierce  on  the  enemy's  squares. 
At  noon  we  began  the  fell  onset: 

We  charged  up  the  Englishman's  hill ; 
And  madly  wc  charged  it  at  sunset — 

His  banners  were  floating  there  still. 

"  — Go  to!   I  will  tell  you  no  more; 

You  know  how  the  battle  was  lost. 
Ho !   fetch  me  a  beaker  of  wine, 

And,  comrades,  I'll  give  you  a  toast. 
I'll  give  you  a  curse  on  all  traitors. 

Who  plotted  our  Emperor's  ruin ; 
And  a  curse  on  those  red-coated  English, 

Whose  ba3'onets  help'd  our  undoing. 

"  A  curse  on  those  British  assassins. 

Who  order'd  the  slaughter  of  Ney ; 
A  curse  on  Sir  Hudson,  who  tortured 

The  life  of  our  hero  away. 
A  curse  on  all  Russians — I  hate  them — 

On  all  Prussian  and  Austrian   fry; 
And  oh !   but  I  pray  we  may  meet  them, 

And  fight  them  again  ere  I  die." 


THE  CHRONICLE  OF  THE  DRUM       15 

'Twas  thus  old  Peter  did  conclude 

His  chronicle  with  curses  fit. 
He  spoke  the  tale  in  accents  rude, 

In  ruder  verse  I  copied  it. 

Perhaps  the  tale  a  moral  bears, 

(All  tales  in  time  to  this  must  come,) 

The  story  of  two  hundred  years 
Writ  on  the  parchment  of  a  drum. 

What  Peter  told  with  drum  and  stick, 

Is  endless  theme  for  poet's  pen: 
Is  found  in  endless  quartos  thick. 

Enormous  books  by  learned  men. 

And  ever  since  historian  writ, 

And  ever  since  a  bard  could  sing, 

Doth  each  exalt  with  all  his  wit 
The  noble  art  of  murdering. 

We  love  to  read  the  glorious  page. 

How  bold  Achilles  kill'd  his  foe : 
And  Turnus,  fcll'd  by  Trojans'  rage. 

Went  howling  to  the  shades  below. 

How  Godfrey  led  his  red-cross  knights. 
How  mad  Orlando  slash'd  and  slew ; 

There's  not  a  single  bard  that  writes 
But  doth  the  glorious  theme  renew. 

And  while,  in  fashion  picturesque, 

The  poet  rhymes  of  blood  and  blows. 

The  grave  historian  at  his  desk 
Describes  the  same  in  classic  prose. 


16  BALLADS 

Go  read  the  works  of  Reverend  Cox, 
You'll  duly  see  recorded  there 

The  history  of  the  self-same  knocks 

Here  roughly  sung  by  Drummer  Pierre. 

Of  battles  fierce  and  warriors  big, 
He  writes  in  phrases  dull  and  slow, 

And  waves  his  cauliflower  wig. 

And  shouts  "  Saint  George  for  Marlborow 

Take  Doctor  Southey  from  the  shelf. 
An  LL.D., — a  peaceful  man; 

Good  Lord,  how  doth  he  plume  himself 
Because  we  beat  the  Corsican ! 

From  first  to  last  his  page  is  filled 

With  stirring  tales  how  blows  were  struck. 

He  shows  how  we  the  Frenchmen  kill'd. 
And  praises  God  for  our  good  luck. 

Some  hints,  'tis  true,  of  politics 

The  doctors  give  and  statesman's  art : 

Pierre   only  bangs  his   drum   and   sticks, 
And  understands  the  bloody  part. 

He  cares  not  what  the  cause  may  be, 
He  is  not  nice  for  wrong  and  right ; 

But  show  him  where's  the  enemy, 
He  only  asks  to  drum  and  fight. 

They  bid  him  fight,  — perhaps  he  wins^ 
And  when  he  tells  the  story  o'er., 

The  honest  savage  brags  and  grins. 
And  only  longs  to  fight  once  morft- 


THE  CHROXICLE  OF  THE  DRUM       17 

But  luck  may  change,  and  valour  fail, 
Our  drummer,  Peter,  meet  reverse, 

And  with  a  moral  points  his  tale — 
The  end  of  all  such  tales  —  a  curse. 

Last  year,  my  love,  it  was  my  hap 

Behind  a  grenadier  to  be, 
And,  but  he  wore  a  hairy  cap, 

No  taller  man,  methinks,  than  me. 

Prince  Albert  and  the  Queen,  God  wot, 
(Be  blessings  on  the  glorious  pair!) 

Before  us  passed,  I  saw  them  not, 
I  only  saw  a  cap  of  hair. 

Your  orthodox  historian  puts 

In  foremost  rank  the  soldier  thus, 
The  red-coat  bully  in  his  boots. 

That  hides  the  march  of  men  from  us. 

He  puts  him  there  in  foremost  rank. 

You  wonder  at  his  cap  of  hair : 
You  hear  his  sabre's  cursed  clank. 

His  spurs  arc  jingling  everywhere. 

Go  to !    I  hate  him  and  his  trade : 
Who  bade  us  so  to  cringe  and  bend. 

And  all  God's  peaceful  ])cople  made 
To  such  as  him  subservient? 

Tell  me  what  find  we  to  admire 

In  epaulets  and  scarlet  coats. 
In  men,  because  they  load  and  fire, 

And  know  the  art  of  cutting  tln-oats? 


18  BALLADS 

Ah,  gentle,  tender  lady  mine ! 

The  winter  wind  blows  cold  and  shrill, 
Come,  fill  me  one  more  glass  of  wine, 

And  give  the  silly  fools  their  will. 

And  what  care  we  for  war  and  wrack, 
How  kings  and  heroes  rise  and  fall; 

Look  3'^onder,^  in  his  coffin  black. 

There  lies  the  greatest  of  them  all! 

To  pluck  him  down,  and  keep  him  up, 
Died  many  million  human  souls ; 

'Tis  twelve  o'clock,  and  time  to  sup. 
Bid  Mary  heap  the  fire  with  coals. 

He  captured  many  thousand  guns ; 

He  wrote  "  The  Great  "  before  his  name ; 
And  dying,  only  left  his  sons 

The  recollection  of  his  shame. 

Though  more  than  half  the  world  was  his, 
He  died  without  a  rood  his  own ; 

And  borrow'd  from  his  enemies 
Six  foot  of  ground  to  lie  upon. 

He  fought  a  thousand  glorious  wars. 
And  more  than  half  the  world  was  his, 

And  somewhere  now,  in  yonder  stars. 
Can  tell,  mayhap,  what  greatness  is. 


1841. 


^  This  ballad  was  written  at  Paris  at  the  time  of  the  Second 
Funeral  of  Napoleon. 


ABD-EL-KADER  AT  TOULON 

OR,    THE   CAGED    HAWK 

No  more,  thou  lithe  and  long-winged  hawk,  of  desert-life  for  thee ; 
No  more  across  the  sultry  sands  shalt  thou  go  swooping  free : 
Blunt  idle  talons,  idle  beak,  with  spurning  of  thy  chain, 
Shatter  against  thy  cage  the  wing  thou  ne'er  may'st  spread  again. 

Long,  sitting  by  their  watchfires,  shall  the  Kabyles  tell  the  tale 
Of  thy  dash  from  Ben  Halifa  on  the  fat  Metidja  vale; 
How  thou  swept'st  the  desert  over,  bearing  down  the  wild  El  Riff, 
From  eastern  Beni  Salah  to  western  Ouad  Shelif ; 

How  thy  white  burnous  went  streaming,  like  the  storm-rack  o'er 

the  sea. 
When  thou  rodcst  in  the  vanward  of  the  Moorish  chivalry ; 
How  thy  razzia  was  a  whirlwind,  thy  onset  a  simoom. 
How  thy  sword-sweep  was  the  lightning,  dealing  death  from  out 

the  gloom ! 

Nor  less  quick  to  slay  in  battle  than  in  peace  to  spare  and  save, 
Of  brave  men  wisest  councillor,  of  wise  councillors  most  bravo ; 
How  the  eye  that  flashed  destruction  could  beam  gentleness  and 

love. 
How  lion  in  thee  mated  lamb,  how  eagle  mated  dove ! 

Availed  not  or  steel  or  shot  'gainst  that  charmed  life  secure. 
Till  cunning  France,  in  lust  resource,  tossed  up  the  golden  lure; 
And  the  carrion  buzzards  round  him  stooped,  faithless,  to  the 

cast. 
And  the  wild  hawk  of  the  desert  is  caught  and  caged  at  last. 

19 


20  BALLADS 

Weep,  maidens  of  Zerifah,  above  the  laden  loom ! 
Scar,  chieftains  of  Al  Elmah,  your  cheeks  in  grief  and  gloom ! 
Sons  of  the  Beni  Snazam,  throw  down  the  useless  lance, 
And  stoop  your  necks  and  bare  your  backs  to  yoke  and  scourge 
of  France ! 

'Twas  not  in  fight  they  bore  him  down ;  he  never  cried  aman; 
He  never  sank  his  sword  before  the  Prince  of  Franghistan  ; 
But  with  traitors  all  around  him,  his  star  upon  the  wane. 
He  heard  the  voice  of  Allah,  and  he  would  not  strive  in  vain. 

They  gave  him  what  he  asked  them ;  from  king  to  king  he  spake, 
As  one  that  plighted  word  and  seal  not  knoweth  how  to  break; 
"  Let  me  pass  from  out  my  deserts,  be't  mine  own  choice  where  to  go, 
I  brook  no  fettered  life  to  live,  a  captive  and  a  show." 

And  they  promised,  and  he  trusted  them,  and  proud  and  calm  he  came, 
Upon  his  black  mare  riding,  girt  with  his  sword  of  fame. 
Good  steed,  good  sword,  he  rendered  both  unto  the  Frankish  throng ; 
He  knew  them  false  and  fickle— but  a  Prince's  word  is  strong. 

How  have  they  kept  their  promise .?     Turned  they  the  vessel's  prow 
Unto  Acre,  Alexandria,  as  they  have  sworn  e'en  now.'' 
Not  so :  from  Oran  northwards  the  white  sails  gleam  and  glance, 
And  the  wild  hawk  of  the  desert  is  borne  away  to  France ! 

Where  Toulon's  white-walled  lazaret  looks  southward  o'er  the   wave. 

Sits  he  that  trusted  in  the  word  a  son  of  Louis  gave. 

O  noble  faith  of  noble  heart !    And  was  the  warning  vain, 

The  text  writ  by  the  Bourbon  in  the  blurred  black  book  of  Spain .? 

They  have  need  of  thee  to  gaze  on,  they  have  need  of  thee  to  grace 
The  triumph  of  the  Prince,  to  gild  the  pinchbeck  of  their  race. 
Words  are  but  wind,  conditions  must  be  construed  by  Guizot  ; 
Dash  out  thy  heart,  thou  desert  hawk,  ere  thou  art  made  a  show ! 


THE    KING   OF   BRENTFORD'S 
TESTAMENT 

The  noble  King  of  Brentford 

Was  old  and  very  sick, 
He  summon'd  his  physicians 

To  wait  upon  him  quick ; 
They  stepp'd  into  their  coaches 

And  brought  their  best  physick. 

They  cramm'd  their  gracious  master 
With  potion  and  with  pill ; 

They  drench'd  him  and  they  bled  him : 
They  could  not  cure  his  ill. 
"  Go  fetch,"  says  he,  "  my  lawyer, 
I'd  better  make  my  will." 

The  monarch's  royal  mandate 

The  lawyer  did  obey ; 
The  thought  of  six-and-cightpence 

Did  make  his  heart  full  gay. 
"  What  is't,"  says  he,  "  your  Majesty 

Would  wish  of  me  to-day?  " 

"  The  doctors  have  bclabour'd  me 
With  potion  and  with  pill:" 
My  hours  of  life  arc  counted, 

0  man  of  tape  and  quill ! 

Sit  down  and  mend  a  pen  or  two, 

1  want  to  make  my  will. 

21 


22  BALLADS 

"  O'er  all  the  land  of  Brentford 
I'm  lord,  and  eke  of  Kew : 

I've  three-per-cents  and  five-per-cents ; 
My  debts  are  but  a  few; 

And  to  inherit  after  me 
I  have  but  children  two. 

"  Prince  Thomas  is  my  eldest  son, 
A  sober  prince  is  he, 
And  from  the  day  we  breech'd  him 

Till  now,  he's  twenty-three. 
He  never  caused  disquiet 
To  his  poor  Mamma  or  me. 

"  At  school  they  never  flogg'd  him. 
At  college,  though  not  fast. 

Yet  his  little-go  and  great-go 
He  creditably  pass'd, 

And  made  his  year's  allowance 
For  eighteen  months  to  last. 

"  He  never  owed  a  shilling, 
Went  never  drunk  to  bed. 

He  has  not  two  ideas 

Within  his  honest  head — 

In  all  respects  he  differs 

From  my  second  son,  Prince  Ned. 

"  When  Tom  has  half  his  income 
Laid  by  at  the  year's  end. 
Poor  Ned  has  ne'er  a  stiver 

That  rightly  he  may  spend, 
But  sponges  on  a  tradesman. 
Or  borrows  from  a  friend. 


KIXG    OF    BRENTFORD'S    TESTAJVIENT  23 

"  While  Tom  his  legal  studies 

Most  soberly  pursues, 
Poor  Ned  must  pass  his  mornings 

A-dawdling  with  the  Muse: 
While  Tom  frequents  his  banker, 

Young  Ned  frequents  the  Jews. 

"  Ned  drives  about  in  buggies, 

Tom  sometimes  takes  a  'bus ; 
Ah,  cruel  fate,  why  made  you 

My   children   differ  thus? 
Why  make  of-  Tom  a  dullard. 

And  Ned  a  genius?  " 

"  You'll  cut  him  with  a  shilling," 

Exclaimed  the  man  of  wits : 
"  I'll  leave  my  wealth,"  said  Brentford, 
"  Sir  Lawyer,  as  befits ; 
And  portion  both  their  fortunes 
Unto  their  several  wits." 

"  Your  Grace  knows  best,"  the  lawyer  said; 

"  On  your  commands  I  wait." 
"  Be  silent,  Sir,"  says  Brentford, 

"  A  plague  upon  your  prate ! 

Come  take  your  pen  and  paper. 
And  write  as  I  dictate." 

The  will  as  Brentford  spoke  it 
Was  writ  and  signed  and  closed ; 

He  bade  the  lawyer  leave  him, 

And  turn'd  him  round  and  dozed; 

And  next  week  in  the  churchyard 
The  good  old  King  reposed. 


24  BALLADS 

Tom,  dressed  in  crape  and  hatband, 
Of  mourners  was  the  chief ; 

In  bitter  self-upbraidings 

Poor  Edward  showed  his  grief: 

Tom  hid  his  fat  white  countenance 
In  his  pocket-handkerchief. 

Ned's  eyes  were  full  of  weeping. 
He  falter'd  in  his  walk; 

Tom  never  shed  a  tear, 
But  onwards  he  did  stalk. 

As  pompous,  black,  and  solemn. 
As  any  catafalque. 

And  when  the  bones  of  Brentford— 
That  gentle  king  and  just — 

With  bell  and  book  and  candle 
Were  duly  laid  in  dust, 
"  Now,  gentlemen,"  says  Thomas, 

"  Let  business  be  discussed. 

"  When  late  our  sire  beloved 
Was  taken  deadly  ill. 

Sir  Lawyer,  you  attended  him 
(I  mean  to  tax  your  bill)  ; 

And,  as  you  signed  and  wrote  it, 
I  prithee  read  the  will." 

The  lawyer  wiped  his  spectacles, 
And  drew  the  parchment  out; 

And  all  the  Brentford  family 
Sat  eager  round  about: 

Poor  Ned  was  somewhat  anxious. 
But  Tom  had  ne'er  a  doubt. 


KING    OF    BREXTFORD'S    TESTAMENT  25 

"  My  son,  as  I  make  ready 

To  seek  my  last  long  home, 
Some  cares  I  had  for  Neddy, 

But  none  for  thee,  my  Tom: 
Sobriety  and  order 

You  ne'er  departed  from. 

"  Ned  hath  a  brilliant  genius, 
And  thou  a  plodding  brain ; 
On  thee  I  think  with  pleasure, 
On  him  with  doubt  and  pain." 
("  You  see,  good  Ned,"  says  Thomas, 
"  What  he  thought  about  us  twain.") 

"  Though  small  was  your  allowance, 

You  saved  a  little  store ; 
And  those  who  save  a  little 

Shall  get  a  plenty  more." 
As  the  lawyer  read  this  compliment, 

Tom's  eyes  were  running  o'er. 

"  The  tortoise  and  the  hare,  Tom, 

Set  out,  at  each  his  pace ; 
The  hare  it  was  the  fleeter. 

The  tortoise  won  the  race ; 
And  since  the  world's  beginning 

This  ever  was  the  case. 

"  Ned's  genius,  blithe  and  singing, 

Steps  gaily  o'er  the  ground ; 
As  steadily  you  trudge  it 

He  clears  it  with  a  bound; 
But  dulness  has  stout  legs,  Tom, 

And  wind  that's  wondrous  sound. 


26  BALLADS 

"  O'er  fruits  and  flowers  alike,  Tom, 
You  pass  with  plodding  feet; 

You  heed  not  one  nor  t'other 
But  onwards  go  your  beat, 

While  genius  stops  to  loiter 
With  all  that  he  may  meet ; 

*'  And  ever  as  he  wanders. 
Will  have  a  pretext  fine 
For  sleeping  in  the  morning, 

Or  loitering  to  dine, 
Or  dozing  in  the  shade, 
Or  basking  in  the  shine. 

"  Your  little  stead}'  eyes,  Tom, 

Though  not  so  bright  as  those 

That  restless  round  about  him 
His  flashing  genius  throws, 

Are  excellently  suited 

To  look  before  your  nose. 

*'  Thank  heaven,  then,  for  the  blinkers 
It  placed  before  your  eyes ; 

The  stupidest  are  weakest. 
The  witty  are  not  wise ; 

Oh,  bless  your  good  stupidity, 
It  is  your  dearest  prize ! 

"  And  though  my  lands  are  wide. 
And  plenty  is  my  gold, 

Still  better  gifts   from  Nature, 
My  Thomas,  do  you  hold — 

A  brain  that's  thick  and  heavy, 
A  heart  that's  dull  and  cold. 


KING    OF    BRENTFORD'S    TESTAMENT  27 

"  Too  dull  to  feel  depression, 

Too  hard  to  heed  distress, 
Too  cold  to  yield  to  passion 

Or  silly  tenderness. 
March  on — your  road  is  open 

To  wealth,  Tom,  and  success. 

"  Ned  sinneth  in  extravagance. 

And  you  in  greedy  lust." 
("  I'  faith,"  says  Ned,  "  our  father 

Is  less  polite  than  just.") 
"  In  you,  son  Tom,  I've  confidence, 

But  Ned  I  cannot  trust. 

"  Wherefore  my  lease  and  copyholds. 

My  lands  and  tenements, 
My  parks,  my  farms,  and  orchards. 

My  houses  and  my  rents, 
My  Dutch  stock  and  my  Spanish  stock. 

My  five  and  three  per  cents, 

"  I  leave  to  you,  my  Thomas  "  — 

("  What,  all?  "  poor  Edward  said. 

"  Well,  well,  I  should  have  spent  them. 
And  Tom's  a  prudent  head  " )  — 

"  I  leave  to  you,  my  Thomas, — 
To  you  IN  TKUST  for  Ned." 

The  wrath  and  consternation 

What  poet  ^'er  could  trace 
That  at  this  fatal  passage 

Came  o'er  Prince  Tom  his  face; 
The  wonder  of  the  company, 

And  honest  Ned's  amaze! 


28  BALLADS 

"  'Tis  surely  sonic  mistake," 

Good-naturedly  cries  Ned; 
The  lawyer  answered  gravely, 
"  'Tis  even  as  I  said ; 
'Twas  thus  his  gracious  Majesty 
Ordain'd  on  his  death-bed. 

"  See,  here  the  will  is  witncss'd. 
And  here's  his  autograph." 

"  In  truth,  our  father's  writing," 
Says  Edward,  with  a  laugh ; 

"  But  thou  shalt  not  be  a  loser,  Tom, 
We'll  share  it  half  and  half." 

"  Alas !   my  kind  young  gentleman, 
This  sharing  cannot  be; 
'Tis  written  in  the  testament 
That  Brentford  spoke  to  me, 
'  I  do  forbid  Prince  Ned  to  give 
Prince  Tom  a  halfpenny. 

"  '  He  hath  a  store  of  money. 

But  ne'er  was  known  to  lend  it ; 

He  never  help'd  his  brother ; 
The  poor  he  ne'er  befriended; 

He  hath  no  need  of  property 

Who  knows  not  how  to  spend  it. 

"  '  Poor  Edward  knows  but  how  to  spend, 
And  thrifty  Tom  to  hoard; 

Let  Thomas  be  the  steward  then, 
And  Edward  be  the  lord ; 

And  as  the  honest  labourer 
Is  worthy  his  reward, 


KING    OF    BRENTFORD'S    TESTAMENT  29 

"  '  I  pra}'  Prince  Ned,  my  second  son, 

And  my  successor  dear, 
To  pay  to  his  intendant 

Five  hundred  pounds  a  year; 
And  to  think  of  his  old  father. 

And  live  and  make  good  cheer.'  " 

Such  was  old  Brentford's  honest  testament. 
He  did  devise  his  mone3's  for  the  best, 
And  lies  in  Brentford  church  in  peaceful  rest. 

Prince  Edward  lived,  and  money  made  and  spent ; 
But  his  good  sire  was  wrong,  it  is  confess'd, 

To  say  his  son,  young  Thomas,  never  lent. 
He  did.     Young  Thomas  lent  at  interest, 

And  nobly  took  his  twenty-five  per  cent. 

Long  time  the  famous  reign  of  Ned  endured 

O'er  Chiswick,  Fulham,  Brentford,  Putney,  Kew, 

But  of  extravagance  he  ne'er  was  cured. 
And  when  both  died,  as  mortal  men  will  do, 

'Twas  commonly  reported  that  the  stcAvard 
Was  very  much  the  richer  of  the  two. 


THE  WHITE   SQUALL 

On  deck,  beneath  the  awning, 
I  dozing  lay  and  yawning; 
It  was  the  grey  of  dawning, 

Ere  yet  the  sun  arose; 
And  above  the  funnel's  roaring, 
And  the  fitful  wind's  deploring, 
I  heard  the  cabin  snoring 

With  universal  nose. 
I  could  hear  the  passengers  snorting— 
I  envied  their  disporting — 
Vainly  I  was  covu'ting 

The  pleasure  of  a  doze ! 

So  I  lay,  and  wondered  why  light 
Came  not,  and  watched  the  twilight, 
And  the  glimmer  of  the  skylight. 

That  shot  across  the  deck ; 
And  the  binnacle  pale  and  steady, 
And  the  dull  glimpse  of  the  dead-eye. 
And  the  sparks  in  fiery  eddy 

That  whirled  from  the  chimney  neck. 
In  our  jovial  floating  prison 
There  was  sleep  from  fore  to  mizen. 
And  never  a  star  had  risen 

The  hazy  sky  to  speck. 
30 


THE  WHITE   SQUALL  31 

Strange  company  we  harboured ; 
We'd  a  hundred  Jews  to  larboard, 
Unwashed,  uncombed,  unbarbered — 

Jews  black,  and  brown,  and  grey ; 
With  terror  it  would  seize  ye, 
And  make  your  souls  uneasy. 
To  see  those  Rabbis  greasy. 

Who  did  nought  but  scratch  and  pray : 
Their  dirty  children  puking— 
Their  dirty  saucepans  cooking — 
Their  dirty  fingers  hooking 

Their  swarming  fleas  away. 

To  starboard,  Turks  and  Greeks  were— 
Whiskered  and  brown  their  cheeks  were— 
Enormous  wide  their  brceks  were, 

Their  pipes  did  pufF  alway ; 
Each  on  his  mat  allotted 
In  silence  smoked  and  squatted. 
Whilst  round  their  children  trotted 

In  prett}^  pleasant  play. 
He  can't  but  smile  who  traces 
The  smiles  on  those  brown  faces, 
And  the  pretty  prattling  graces 

Of  those  small  heathens  gay. 

And  so  the  hours  kept  tolling. 
And  through  the  ocean  rolling 
Went  the  brave  "  Iberia  "  bowling 
Before  the  break  of  day  — 

When  A  SQUALL,  upon  a  sudden, 
Came  o'er  the  waters  scudding ; 
And  the  clouds  began  to  gather, 
And  the  sea  was  lashed  to  lather, 


32  BALLADS 


And  the  lowering  thunder  grumbled, 

And  the  lightning  jumped  and  tumbled, 

And  the  ship,  and  all  the  ocean. 

Woke  up  in  wild  commotion. 

Then  the  wind  set  up  a  howling. 

And  the  poodle  dog  a  yowling, 

And  the  cocks  began  a  crowing. 

And  the  old  cow  raised  a  lowing, 

As  she  heard  the  tempest  blowing ; 

And  fowls  and  geese  did  cackle, 

And  the  cordage  and  the  tackle 

Began  to  shriek  and  crackle; 

And  the  spray  dashed  o'er  the  funnels, 

And  down  the  deck  in  runnels ; 

And  the  rushing  water  soaks  all. 

From  the  seamen  in  the  fo'ksal 

To  the  stokers  whose  black  faces 

Peer  out  of  their  bed-places ; 

And  the  captain  he  was  bawling. 

And  the  sailors  pulling,  hauling. 

And  the  quarter-deck  tarpauling 

Was  shivered  in  the  squalling; 

And  the  passengers  awaken, 

Most  pitifully  shaken ; 

And  the  steward  jumps  up,  and  hastens 

For  the  necessary  basins. 

Then  the  Greeks  they  groaned  and  quivered, 
And  they  knelt,  and  moaned,  and  shivered, 
As  the  plunging  waters  met  them. 
And  splashed  and  overset  them; 
And  they  call  in  their  emergence 
Upon  countless  saints  and  virgins ; 
And  their  marrowbones  are  bended. 
And  they  think  the  world  is  ended. 


THE  WHITE   SQUALL  33 

And  the  Turkish  women  for'ard 
Were  frightened  and  behorror'd ; 
And  shrieking  and  bewildering, 
The  mothers  clutched  their  children ; 
The  men  sung  "Allah !   Illah ! 
Mashallah  Bismillah !  " 
As  the  warring  waters  doused  them 
And  splashed  them  and  soused  them, 
And  they  called  upon  the  Prophet, 
And  thouffht  but  little  of  it. 


Then  all  the  fleas  in  Jewry 

Jumped  up  and  bit  like  fury; 

And  the  progeny  of  Jacob 

Did  on  the  main-deck  wake  up 

(I  wot  those  greasy  Rabbins 

Would  never  pay  for  cabins)  ; 

And  each  man  moaned  and  jabbered  in 

His  filthy  Jewish  gaberdine. 

In  woe  and  lamentation. 

And  howling  consternation. 

And  the  splashing  water  drenches 

Their  dirty  brats  and  wenches; 

And  they  crawl  from  bales  and  benches 

In  a  hundred  thousand  stenches. 

This  was  the  White  Squall  famous, 

Which  latterly  o'ercame  us. 

And  which  all  will  well  remember 

On  the  28th  September ; 

When  a  Prussian  captain  of  Lancers 

(Those  tight-laced,  whiskered  prancers) 

Came  on  the  deck  astonished. 

By  that  wild  squall  admonished, 


34  BALLADS 


And  wondering  cried,  "  Potztausend, 

Wie  ist  der  Stiirm  jetzt  brausend?" 

And  looked  at  Captain  Lewis, 

Who  calmly  stood  and  blew  his 

Cigar  in  all  the  bustle. 

And  scorned  the  tempest's  tussle, 

And  oft  we've  thought  thereafter 

How  he  beat  the  storm  to  laughter; 

For  well  he  knew  his  vessel 

With  that  vain  wind  could  wrestle; 

And  when  a  wreck  we  thought  her, 

And  doomed  ourselves  to  slaughter. 

How  gaily  he  fought  her, 

And  through  the  hubbub  brought  her. 

And  as  the  tempest  caught  her, 

Cried,  "  George  !   some  brandy-and-water  !  " 

And  when,  its  force  expended. 
The  harmless  storm  was  ended. 
And  as  the  sunrise  splendid 

Came  blushing  o'er  the  sea; 
I  thought,  as  day  was  breaking, 
My  little  girls  were  waking. 
And  smiling,  and  making 

A  prayer  at  home  for  me. 


1844. 


PEG  OF  LIMAVADDY 

Riding  from  Colcraine 

(Famed  for  lovely  Kitty), 
Came  a  Cockney  bound 

Unto  Derry  city ; 
Weary  was  his  soul, 

Shivering  and  sad,  he 
Bumped  along  the  road 

Leads  to  Limavaddy. 

Mountains  stretch'd  around, 
Gloomy  was  their  tinting, 
And  the  horse's  hoofs 

Made  a  dismal  dinting; 
Wind  upon  the  heath 

Howling  was  and  piping, 
On  the  heath  and  bog. 

Black  with  many  a  snipe  in. 
Mid  the  bogs  of  black, 

Silver  pools  were  flashing, 
Crows  upon  their  sides 

Picking  were  and  splashing. 
Cockney  on  the  car 

Closer  folds  his  plaidy, 
Grumbling  at  the  road 

Leads  to  Limavaddy. 
35 


36  BALLADS 

Through  the  crashing  woods 

Autumn  brawl'd  and  bluster'd, 
Tossing  round  about 

Leaves  the  hue  of  mustard ; 
Yonder  lay  Lough  Foyle, 

Which  a  storm  was  whipping. 
Covering  with  mist 

Lake,  and  shores  and  shipping. 
Up  and  down  the  hill 

(Nothing  could  be  bolder), 
Horse  went  with  a  raw 

Bleeding  on  his  shoulder. 
"Where  are  horses  changed?" 

Said  I  to  the  laddy 
Driving  on  the  box: 
"  Sir,  at  Limavaddy." 


Limavaddy  inn's 

But  a  humble  bait-house. 
Where  you  may  procure 

Whisky  and  potatoes ; 
Landlord  at  the  door 

Gives  a  smiling  welcome — 
To  the  shivering  wights 

Who  to  his  hotel  come. 
Landlady  within 

Sits  and  knits  a  stocking. 
With  a  wary  foot 

Baby's  cradle  rocking. 
To  the  chimney  nook 

Having  found  admittance. 
There  I  watch  a  pup 

Playing  with  two  kittens ; 


PEG  OF  LIIMAVADDY  37 

(Plaj'ing  round  tlic  fire, 

Which  of  blazing  turf  is, 
Roaring  to  the  pot 

Which  bubbles  with  the  murphies.) 
And  the  cradled  babe 

Fond  the  mother  nursed  it. 
Singing  it  a  song 

As  she  twists  the  worsted! 

Up  and  down  the  stair 

Two  more  young  ones  patter 
(Twins  were  never  seen 

Dirtier  nor  fatter). 
Both  have  mottled  legs. 

Both  have  snubby  noses, 
Both  have — Here  the  host 

Kindly  interposes : 
"  Sure  you  must  be  froze 

With  the  sleet  and  hail,  sir: 
So  will  you  have  some  punch. 

Or  will  you  have  some  ale,  sir?  " 

Presently  a  maid 

Enters  with  the  liquor 
(Half  a  pint  of  ale 

Frothing  in  a  beaker). 
Gads  !   I  didn't  know 

What  my  beating  heart  meant: 
Hebe's  self  I  thought 

Entered  the  apartment. 
As  she  came  she  smiled. 

And  the  smile  bewitching, 
On  my  word  and  honour, 

Lighted  all  the  kitchen  ! 


38  BALLADS 

With  a  curtsey  neat 

Greeting  the  new  comer, 
Lovely,  smiling  Peg 

Offers  me  the  rummer; 
But  my  trembling  hand 

Up  the  beaker  tilted, 
And  the  glass  of  ale 

Every  drop  I  spilt  it: 
Spilt  it  every  drop 

(Dames,  who  read  my  volumes, 
Pardon  such  a  word) 

On  my  what-d'ye-call-'ems ! 

Witnessing  the  sight 

Of  that  dire  disaster, 
Out  began  to  laugh 

Missis,  maid,  and  master ; 
Such  a  merry  peal 

'Specially  Miss  Peg's  was, 
(As  the  glass  of  ale 

Trickling  down  my  legs  was,) 
That  the  joyful  sound 

Of  that  mingling  laughter 
Echoed  in  my  ears 

Many  a  long  day  after. 

Such  a  silver  peal ! 

In  the  meadows  listening. 
You  who've  heard  the  bells 

Ringing  to  a  christening ; 
You  who  ever  heard 

Caradori  pretty, 
Smiling  like  an  angel. 

Singing  "  Giovinetti ;  " 


PEG  OF  LIMAVADDY  39 

Fancy  Peggy's  laugb, 

Sweet,  and  clear,  and  cheerful. 
At  my  pantaloons 

With  half  a  pint  of  beer  full! 

When  the  laugh  was  done, 

Peg,  the  pretty  hussy. 
Moved  about  the  room 

Wonderfully  busy; 
Now  she  looks  to  see 

If  the  kettle  keep  hot ; 
Now  she  rubs  the  spoons, 

Now  she  cleans  the  teapot; 
Now  she  sets  the  cups 

Trimly  and  secure: 
Now  she  scours  a  pot. 

And  so  it  was  I  drew  her. 

Thus  it  was  I  drew  her 

Scouring  of  a  kettle, 
(Faith!   her  blusliing  cheeks 

Redden'd  on  the  metal!) 
Ah  !  but  'tis  in  vain 

That  I  try  to  sketch  it; 
The  pot  perhaps  is  like. 

But  Peggy's  face  is  wretched. 
No !  the  best  of  lead 

And  of  indian-rubber 
Never  could  depict 

That  sweet  kettle-scrubber! 

See  her  as  she  moves 

Scarce  the  ground  she  touches, 
Airy  as  a  fay. 

Graceful  as  a  duchess ; 


40  BALLADS 

Bare  her  rounded  arm, 

Bare  her  little  leg  is, 
Vestris  never  show'd 

Ankles  like  to  Peggy's. 
Braided  is  her  hair, 

Soft  her  look  and  modest. 
Slim  her  little  waist 

Comfortably  bodiced. 

This  I  do  declare, 

Happy  is  the  laddy 
Who  the  heart  can  share 

Of  Peg  of  Limavaddy. 
Married  if  she  were 

Blest  would  be  the  daddy 
Of  the  children  fair 

Of  Peg  of  Limavaddy. 
Beauty  is  not  rare 

In  the  land  of  Paddy, 
Fair  beyond  compare 

Is  Peg  of  Limavaddy. 

Citizen  or  Squire, 

Tory,  Whig,  or  Radi- 
cal would  all  desire 

Peg  of  Limavaddy. 
Had  I  Homer's  fire. 

Or  that  of  Serjeant  Taddy, 
Meetly  I'd  admire 

Peg  of  Limavaddy. 
And  till  I  expire. 

Or  till  I  grow  mad,  I 
Will  sing  unto  my  lyre 

Peg  of  Limavaddy ! 


MAY-DAY  ODE 

But  yesterday  a  naked  sod 

The  dandies  sneered  from  Rotten  Row, 
And  cantered  o'er  it  to  and  fro : 

And  see  'tis  done ! 
As  though  'twere  by  a  wizard's  rod 
A  blazing  arch  of  lucid  glass 
Leaps  like  a  fountain  from  the  grass 
To  meet  the  sun! 

A  quiet  green  but  few  days  since, 
With  cattle  browsing  in  the  shade: 
And  here  are  lines  of  bright  arcade 
In  order  raised  1 
A  palace  as  for  fairy  Prince, 
A  rare  pavilion,  such  as  man 
Saw  never  since  mankind  began. 

And  built  and  glazed ! 

A  peaceful  place  it  was  but  now. 
And  lo!   within  its  shining  streets 
A  multitude  of  nations  meets ; 

A  countless  throng 
I  see  beneath  the  crystal  bow, 

And  Gaul  and  German,  Russ  and  Turk, 
Each  with  his  native  handiwork 

And  busy  tongue. 

41 


42  BALLADS 

I  felt  a  thrill  of  love  and  awe 

To  mark  the  different  garb  of  each, 
The  changing  tongue,  the  various  speech 
Together  blent: 
A  thrill,  methinks,  like  His  who  saw 
"  All  people  dwelling  upon  earth 
Praising  our  God  with  solemn  mirth 
And  one  consent." 

High  Sovereign,  in  your  Royal  state, 
Captains,  and  chiefs,  and  councillors, 
Before  the  lofty  palace  doors 

Are  open  set, — 
Hush !   ere  you  pass  the  shining  gate ; 
Hush !    ere  the  heaving  curtain  draws, 
And  let  the  Royal  pageant  pause 
A   moment  yet. 

People  and  prince  a  silence  keep ! 
Bow  coronet  and  kingly  crown, 
Helmet  and  plume,  bow  lowly  down. 

The  while  the  priest. 
Before  the  splendid  portal  step, 

(While  still  the  wondrous  banquet  stays,) 
From  Heaven  supreme  a  blessing  prays 
Upon  the  feast. 

Then  onwards  let  the  triumph  march; 
Then  let  the  loud  artillery  roll, 
And  trumpets  ring,  and  joy-bells  toll, 
And  pass  the  gate. 
Pass  underneath  the  shining  arch, 

'Neath  which  the  leafy  elms  are  green ; 
Ascend  unto  your  throne,  0  Queen ! 

And  take  your  state. 


JNIAY-DAY  ODE  43 

Behold  her  in  her  Royal  place; 
A  gentle  lady ;  and  the  hand 
That  sways  the  sceptre  of  this  land, 
How  frail  and  weak ! 
Soft  is  the  voice,  and  fair  the  face: 

She  breathes  amen  to  pra^'er  and  hymn ; 
No  wonder  that  her  eyes  are  dim, 

And  pale  her  cheek. 

This  moment  round  her  empire's  shores 
The  winds  of  Austral  winter  sweep, 
And  thousands  lie  in  midnight  sleep 
At  rest  to-day. 
Oh !   awful  is  that  crown  of  yours, 
Queen  of  innumerable  realms 
Sitting  beneath  the  budding  elms 
Of  English  May ! 

A  wondrous  sceptre  'tis  to  bear: 
Strange  mystery  of  God  which  set 
Upon  her  brow  yon  coronet, — 

The  foremost  crown 
Of  all  the  world,  on  one  so  fair ! 

That  chose  her  to  it  from  her  birth, 
And  bade  the  sons  of  all  the  earth 

To  her  bow  down. 

The  representatives  of  man 
Here  from  the  far  Antipodes, 
And  from  the  subject  Indian  seas. 

In    Congress   meet ; 
From  Afric  and  from  Hindustan, 
From  Western  continent  and  isle. 
The  envoys  of  her  empire  pile 

Gifts  at  her  feet ; 


44  BALLADS 

Our  brethren  cross  the  Atlantic  tides, 
Loading  the  gallant  decks  which  once 
Roared  a  defiance  to  our  guns, 

With  peaceful  store; 
Symbol  of  peace,  their  vessel  rides  !^ 

O'er  English  waves  float  Star  and  Stripe, 
And  firm  their  friendly  anchors  gripe 
The  father  shore ! 

From  Rhine  and  Danube,  Rhone  and  Seine, 
As  rivers  from  their  sources  gush. 
The  swelling  floods  of  nations  rush. 

And   seaward   pour : 
From  coast  to  coast  in  friendly  chain, 

With  countless  ships  we  bridge  the  straits, 
And  angry  ocean  separates 

Europe  no  more. 

From  Mississippi  and  from  Nile — 
From  Baltic,  Ganges,  Bosphorus, 
In  England's  ark  assembled  thus 

Are  friend  and  guest. 
Look  down  the  mighty  sunlit  aisle. 
And  see  the  sumptuous  banquet  set, 
The  brotherhood  of  nations  met 

Around  the  feast! 

Along  the  dazzling  colonnade. 

Far  as  the  straining  eye  can  gaze. 
Gleam  cross  and  fountain,  bell  and  vase, 
In  vistas  bright ; 
And  statues  fair  of  nymph  and  maid. 
And  steeds  and  pards  and  Amazons, 
Writhing  and  grappling  in  the  bronze, 
In  endless  fight. 
1  The  U.  S.  Frigate  "  St.  Lawrence." 


MAY-DAY  ODE  45 

To  deck  the  glorious  roof  and  dome, 
To  make  the  Queen  a  canopy, 
The  peaceful  hosts  of  industry 

Their  standards  bear. 
Yon  are  the  works  of  Brahmin  loom : 
On  such  a  web  of  Persian  thread 
The  desert  Arab  bows  his  head 

And  cries  his  pra3^er. 

Look  yonder  where  the  engines  toil : 

These  England's  arms  of  conquest  are. 
The  trophies  of  her  bloodless  war: 

Brave  weapons  these. 
Victorious  over  wave  and  soil, 

With  these  she  sails,  she  weaves,  she  tills, 
Pierces  the  everlasting  hills 

And  spans  the  seas. 

The  engine  roars  upon  its  race, 

The  shuttle  whirrs  along  the  woof. 
The  people  hum  from  floor  to  roof, 
With  Babel  tongue. 
The  fountain  in  the  basin  plays. 
The  chanting  organ  echoes  clear. 
An  awful  chorus  'tis  to  hear, 

A  wondrous  song! 

Swell,  organ,  swell  your  trumpet  blast, 
March,  Queen  and  Royal  pageant,  march 
By  splendid  aisle  and  springing  arch 
Of  this  fair  Hall : 
And  see!  above  the  fabric  vast, 

God's  boundless  Heaven  is  bending  blue, 
God's  peaceful  sunlight's  beaming  through, 
And  shines  o'er  all. 


May,  1851. 


THE    BALLAD    OF    BOUILLABAISSE 

A  STREET  there  is  in  Paris  famous, 

For  which  no  rhyme  our  language  yields, 
Rue  Neuve  des  Petits  Champs  its  name  is — 

The  New  Street  of  the  Little  Fields. 
And  here's  an  inn,  not  rich  and  splendid, 

But  still  in  comfortable  case; 
The  which  in  youth  I  oft  attended, 

To  eat  a  bowl  of  Bouillabaisse. 

This  Bouillabaisse  a  noble  dish  is — 

A  sort  of  soup  or  broth,  or  brew. 
Or  hotchpotch  of  all  sorts  of  fishes. 

That  Greenwich  never  could  outdo; 
Green  herbs,  red  peppers,  mussels,  saffron, 

Soles,  onions,  garlic,  roach,  and  dace: 
All  these  you  eat  at  Terre's  tavern. 

In  that  one  dish  of  Bouillabaisse. 

Indeed,  a  rich  and  savoury  stew  'tis ; 

And  true  philosophers,  methinks, 
Who  love  all  sorts  of  natural  beauties. 

Should  love  good  victuals  and  good  drinks. 
And  Cordelier  or  Benedictine  • 

Might  gladly,  sure,  his  lot  embrace, 
Nor  find  a  fast-day  too  afflicting, 

Which  served  him  up  a  Bouillabaisse. 
46 


THE    BALLAD    OF    BOUILLABAISSE  47 

I  wonder  if  the  house  still  there  is? 

Yes,  here  the  lamp  is,  as  before; 
The  smiling  red-cheeked  ecaillere  is 

Still  opening  oysters  at  the  door. 
Is  Tekre  still  alive  and  able? 

I  recollect  his  droll  grimace : 
He'd  come  and  smile  before  your  table. 

And  hope  you  liked  your  Bouillabaisse. 

We  enter — nothing's  changed  or  older. 
"How's  Monsieur  Terre,  waiter,  pray?" 
The  waiter  stares  and  shrugs  his  shoulder — 
"  Monsieur  is  dead  this  many  a  day." 
"  It  is  the  lot  of  saint  and  sinner, 

So  honest  Terre's  run  his  race." 
"  What  will  Monsieur  require  for  dinner?  " 
"  Say,  do  3'ou  still  cook  Bouillabaisse?  " 

"  Oh,  oui,  Monsieur,"  's  the  waiter's  answer ; 

"Quel  vin  Monsieur  desire-t-il?  " 
"  Tell  me  a  good  one."  —  "  That  I  can,  Sir: 

The  Chambertin  with  yellow  seal." 
"  So  Terre's  gone,"  I  say,  and  sink  in 

My  old  accustom'd  corner-place ; 
**  He's  done  with  feasting  and  with  drinking, 

With  Burgundy  and  Bouillabaisse." 

My  old  accustom'd  corner  here  is. 

The  table  still  is  in  the  nook ; 
Ah !   vanish'd  many  a  busy  year  is 

This  well-known  chair  since  last  I  took. 
When  first  I  saw  ye,  cari  luoghi, 

I'd  scarce  a  beard  vipon  my  face. 
And  now  a  grizzled,  grim  old  fogy, 

I  sit  and  wait  for  Bouillabaisse. 


48  BALLADS 

Where  are  you,  old  companions  trusty 

Of  early  days  here  met  to  dine  ? 
Come,  waiter!   quick,  a  flagon  crusty  — 

I'll  pledge  them  in  the  good  old  wine. 
The  kind  old  voices  and  old  faces 

My  memory  can  quick  retrace; 
Around  the  board  they  take  their  places, 

And  share  the  wine  and  Bouillabaisse. 

There's  Jack  has  made  a  wondrous  marriage ; 

There's  laughing  Tom  is  laughing  yet ; 
There's  brave  Augustus  drives  his  carriage ; 

There's  poor  old  Fred  in  the  Gazette; 
On  James's  head  the  grass  is  growing: 

Good  Lord !   the  world  has  wagged  apace 
Since  here  we  set  the  Claret  flowing. 

And  drank,  and  ate  the  Bouillabaisse. 

Ah  me !   how  quick  the  days  are  flitting ! 

I  mind  me  of  a  time  that's  gone, 
When  here  I'd  sit,  as  now  I'm  sitting. 

In  this  same  place — but  not  alone. 
A  fair  young  form  was  nestled  near  me, 

A  dear,  dear  face  looked  fondly  up, 
And  sweetly  spoke  and  smiled  to  cheer  me 

—  There's  no  one  now  to  share  my  cup. 


I  drink  it  as  the  Fates  ordain  it. 

Come,  fill  it,  and  have  done  with  rhymes : 
Fill  up  the  lonely  glass,  and  drain  it 

In  memory  of  dear  old  times. 
Welcome  the  wine,  whate'er  the  seal  is ; 

And  sit  you  down  and  say  your  grace 
With  thankful  heart,  whate'er  the  meal  is. 

— Here  comes  the  smoking  Bouillabaisse ! 


THE   MAHOGANY   TREE 

Christmas  is  here: 
Winds  whistle  shrill, 
Icy  and  chill, 
Little  care  we : 
Little  we  fear 
Weather  without, 
Sheltered  about 
The  Mahogany  Tree. 

Once  on  the  boughs 
Birds  of  rare  plume 
Sang,  in  its  bloom; 
Night-birds  are  we: 
Here  we  carouse, 
Singing  like  them, 
Perched  round  the  stem 
Of  the  jolly  old  tree. 

Here  let  us  sport. 
Boys,  as  we  sit; 
Laughter  and  wit 
Flashing  so  free. 
Life  is  but  short  — 
When  we  are  gone. 
Let  them  sing  on, 
Kound  the  old  tree. 
49 


50  BALLADS 

Evenings  we  knew, 
Happy  as  this ; 
Faces  we  miss. 
Pleasant  to  see. 
Kind  hearts  and  true, 
Gentle  and  just, 
Peace  to  your  dust ! 
We  sing  round  the  tree. 

Care,  like  a  dun, 
Lurks  at  the  gate: 
Let  the  dog  wait ; 
Happy  we'll  be ! 
Drink,  every  one; 
Pile  up  the  coals. 
Fill  the  red  bowls. 
Round  the  old  tree ! 

Drain  we  the  cup. — 
Friend,  art  afraid? 
Spirits  are  laid 
In  the  Red  Sea. 
Mantle  it  up; 
Empty  it  yet ; 
Let  us  forget. 
Round  the  old  tree. 

Sorrows,  begone ! 
Life  and  its  ills, 
Duns  and  their  bills, 
Bid  we  to  flee. 
Come  with  the  dawn, 
Blue-devil  sprite. 
Leave  us  to-night. 
Round  the  old  tree. 


THE  YANKEE  VOLUNTEERS 

"  A  surgeon  of  the  United  States'  army  says,  that  on  inquiring  of  the  Captain 
of  his  company,  he  found  that  nine-tenths  of  the  men  had  enlisted  on  account  of 
some  female  difficulty." — Morning  Paper. 

Ye  Yankee  volunteers ! 
It  makes  my  bosom  bleed 
When  I  your  story  read, 

Though  oft  'tis  told  one. 
So — in  both  hemispheres 
The  women  are  untrue, 
And  cruel  in  the  New, 

As  in  the  Old  one ! 

What — in  this  company 

Of  sixty  sons  of  Mars, 

Who  march  'neath  Stripes  and  Stars, 

With  fife  and  horn. 
Nine-tenths  of  all  we  see 
Along  the  warlike  lino 
Had  but  one  cause  to  join 

This  Hope  Forlorn? 

Deserters  from  the  realm 
Where  tyrant  Venus  reigns, 
You  slipp'd  her  wicked  chains. 

Fled  and  out-ran  her. 
And  now,  with  sword  and  helm, 
Together  banded  arc 
Beneath  the  Stripe  and  Star- 

Kmbroidcr'd  banner ! 
51 


52  BALLADS 

And  is  it  so  with  all 

The  warriors  ranged  in  line, 

With  lace  bedizen'd  fine 

And  swords  gold-hilted — 
Yon  lusty  corporal, 
Yon  colour-man  who  gripes 
The  flag  of  Stars  and  Stripes - 

Has  each  been  jilted? 

Come,  each  man  of  this  line, 
The  privates  strong  and  tall, 
*'  The  pioneers  and  all," 

The  fifer  nimble — 
Lieutenant  and  Ensign, 
Captain  with  epaulets, 
And  Blacky  there,  who  beats 

The  clanging  cymbal — 

O  cymbal-beating  black, 
Tell  us,  as  thou  canst  feel. 
Was  it  some  Lucy  Neal 

Who  caused  thy  ruin? 
O  nimble  fifing  Jack, 
And  drummer  making  din 
So  deftly  on  the  skin, 

With  thy  rat-tattooing — 

Confess,  ye  volunteers, 
Lieutenant  and  Ensign, 
And  Captain  of  the  line, 

As  bold  as  Roman — 
Confess,  ye  grenadiers. 
However  strong  and  tall, 
The  Conqueror  of  you  all 

Is  Woman,  Woman ! 


THE    YANKEE   VOLUNTEERS  53 

No  corselet  is  so  proof 

But  through  it  from  her  bow 

The  shafts  that  she  can  throw 

Will  pierce  and  rankle. 
No  champion  e'er  so  tough, 
But  's  in  the  struggle  thrown, 
And  tripp'd  and  trodden  down 

By  her  slim  ankle. 

Thus  always  it  was  ruled: 
And  when  a  woman  smiled, 
The  strong  man  was  a  child, 

The  sage  a  noodle. 
Alcides  was  befool'd. 
And  silly  Samson  shorn 
Long,  long  ere  you  were  born. 

Poor  Yankee  Doodle! 


THE   PEN  AND   THE   ALBUM 

"  I  AM  Miss  Catherine's  book,"  the  Album  speaks ; 
"  I've  lain  among  your  tomes  these  many  weeks ; 
I'm  tired  of  their  old  coats  and  yellow  cheeks. 

"  Quick,  Pen  !   and  write  a  line  with  a  good  grace: 
Come !  draw  me  off  a  funny  little  face ; 
And,  prithee,  send  me  back  to  Chesham  Place." 


54  BALLADS 

PEN 

"  I  am  my  master's  faithful  old  Gold  Pen ; 
I've  served  him  three  long  years,  and  drawn  since  then 
Thousands  of  funny  women  and  droll  men. 

"  O  Album !  could  I  tell  you  all  his  ways 
And  thoughts,  since  I  am  his,  these  thousand  days, 
Lord,  how  your  pretty  pages  I'd  amaze !  " 

ALBUM 

"  His  ways  ?  his  thoughts  ?     Just  whisper  me  a  few ; 
Tell  me  a  curious  anecdote  or  two, 
And  write  'em  quickly  off,  good  Mordan,  do ! " 

PEN 

"  Since  he  my  faithful  service  did  engage 
To  follow  him  through  his  queer  pilgrimage, 
I've  drawn  and  written  many  a  line  and  page. 

"  Caricatures  I  scribbled  have,  and  rhymes. 
And  dinner-cards,  and  picture  pantomimes. 
And  merry  little  children's  books  at  times. 

"  I've  writ  the  foolish  fancy  of  his  brain ; 
The  aimless  jest  that,  striking,  hath  caused  pain; 
The  idle  word  that  he'd  wish  back  again. 

***** 

"  I've  help'd  him  to  pen  many  a  line  for  bread ; 
To  joke,  with  sorrow  aching  in  his  head; 
And  make  your  laughter  when  his  own  heart  bled. 

"  I've  spoke  with  men  of  all  degree  and  sort — 
Peers  of  the  land,  and  ladies  of  the  Court; 
Oh,  but  I've  chronicled  a  deal  of  sport ! 


THE    PEN    AXD    THE    ALBUM        55 

"  Feasts  that  were  ate  a  thousand  days  ago, 
Biddings  to  wine  that  long  hath  ceased  to  flow, 
Gay  meetings  with  good  fellows  long  laid  low; 

"  Summons  to  bridal,  banquet,  burial,  ball, 
Tradesman's  polite  reminders  of  his  small 
Account  due  Christmas  last  —  I've  answer'd  all. 

"  Poor  Diddler's  tenth  petition  for  a  half- 
Guinea;  Miss  Bunyan's  for  an  autograph; 
So  I  refuse,  accept,  lament,  or  laugh, 

"  Condole,  congratulate,  invite,  praise,  scoff, 
Day  after  day  still  dipping  in  my  trough, 
And  scribbling  pages  after  pages  off. 

"  Day  after  day  the  labour's  to  be  done, 
And  sure  as  comes  the  postman  and  the  sun, 
The  indefatigable  ink  must  run. 

***** 
"  Go  back,  my  pretty  little  gilded  tome, 
To  a  fair  mistress  and  a  pleasant  home, 
Where  soft  hearts  greet  us  whensoe'er  we  come! 

"  Dear,  friendly  eyes,  with  constant  kindness  lit, 
However  rude  my  verse,  or  poor  my  wit, 
Or  sad  or  gay  my  mood,  you  welcome  it. 

"  Kind  lady !  till  my  last  of  lines  is  penn'd, 
My  master's  love,  grief,  laughter,  at  an  end. 
Whene'er  I  write  your  name,  may  I  write  friend ! 

"  Not  all  are  so  that  were  so  in  past  years ; 
Voices,  familiar  once,  no  more  he  hears ; 
Names,  often  writ,  are  blotted  out  in  tears. 


56  BALLADS 

"  So  be  it: — joys  will  end  and  tears  will  dry — 
Album !  my  master  bids  me  wish  good-by, 
He'll  send  you  to  your  mistress  presently. 

"  And  thus  with  thankful  heart  he  closes  you ; 
Blessing  the  happy  hour  when  a  friend  he  knew 
So  gentle,  and  so  generous,  and  so  true. 

"  Nor  pass  the  words  as  idle  phrases  by ; 
Stranger!  I  never  writ  a  flattery, 
Nor  sign'd  the  page  that  register'd  a  lie." 


MRS.    KATHERINE'S   LANTERN 

WRITTEN   IN   A   LADy's  ALBUM 

"  Coming  from  a  gloomy  court, 
Place  of  Israelite  resort. 
This  old  lamp  I've  brought  with  me. 
Madam,  on  its  panes  you'll  see 
The  initials  K  and  E." 

"  An  old  lantern  brought  to  me  ? 

Ugly,  dingy,  battered,  black ! " 

(Here  a  lady  I  suppose 

Turning  up  a  pretty  nose)  — 
"  Pray,  sir,  take  the  old  tiling  back. 

I've  no  taste  for  bricabrac." 

"  Please  to  mark  the  letters  twain  " — 

(I'm  supposed  to  speak  again)  — 
"  Graven  on  the  lantern  pane. 


MRS.    KATHERINE'S    LANTERN        57 

Can  you.  tell  mc  who  was  she, 
Mistress  of  the  flowery  wreath, 
And  the  anagram  beneath — 
The  mysterious  K  E? 

"  Full  a  hundred  j^ears  are  gone 
Since  the  little  beacon  shone 
From  a  Venice  balcony : 
There,  on  summer  nights,  it  hung, 
And  her  lovers  came  and  sung 
To  their  beautiful  K  E. 


'  Hush !  in  the  canal  below 
Don't  you  hear  the  plash  of  oars 
Underneath  the  lantern's  glow. 
And  a  thrilling  voice  begins 
To  the  sound  of  mandolins? — 
Begins  singing  of  amore 
And  delire  and  dolore — 
O  the  ravishing  tenore! 

'  Lady,  do  you  know  the  tune? 
Ah,  Ave  all  of  us  have  hummed  it ! 
I've  an  old  guitar  has  thrummed  it, 
Under  many  a  changing  moon. 
Shall  I  try  it?     Do  re  MI  *   * 
What  is  tin's?     Ma  foi,  the  fact  is. 
That  my  hand  is  out  of  practice, 
And  my  poor  old  fiddle  cracked  is. 
And  a  man  —  I  let  the  truth  out, — 
Who's  had  almost  every  tooth  out. 
Cannot  sing  as  once  he  sung. 
When  he  was  young  as  you  are  young, 
When  he  was  young  and  lutes  were  strung. 
And  love-lamps  in  the  casement  hung." 


LUCY'S   BIRTHDAY 

Seventeen  rose-buds  in  a  ring, 
Thick  with  sister  flowers  beset, 
In  a  fragrant  coronet, 
Lucy's  servants  this  day  bring. 
Be  it  the  birthday  wreath  she  wears 
Fresh  and  fair,  and  symboUing 
The  young  number  of  her  years. 
The  sweet  blushes  of  her  spring. 

Types  of  youth  and  love  and  hope ! 
Friendly  hearts  your  mistress  greet, 
Be  you  ever  fair  and  sweet, 
And  grow  lovelier  as  you  ope! 
Gentle  nursling,  fenced  about 
With  fond  care,  and  guarded  so, 
Scarce  you've  heard  of  storms  without, 
Frosts  that  bite,  or  winds  that  blow ! 

Kindly  has  your  life  begun. 
And  we  pray  that  heaven  may  send 
To  our  floweret  a  warm  sun, 
A  calm  summer,  a  sweet  end. 
And  where'er  shall  be  her  home. 
May  she  decorate  the  place; 
Still  expanding  into  bloom. 
And  developing  in  grace. 
58 


THE  CANE-BOTTOM'D  CHAIR 

N  tattered  old  slippers  that  toast 
at  the  bars, 

And  a  ragged  old  jacket  per- 
fumed with  cigars, 

Away  from  the  world  and  its 
toils  and  its  cares, 

I've  a  snug  little  kingdom  up 
four  pair  of  stairs. 

To  mount  to  this  realm  is  a  toil, 

to  be  sure. 
But  the  fire  there  is  bright  and 

the  air  rather  pure; 
And    the    view    I    behold    on    a 

sunshiny  day 
Is  grand  through  the  chinmey- 

pots  over  the  way, 

This  snug  little  chamber  is  cramm'd  in  all  nooks 

With  worthless  old  knicknacks  and  silly  old  books, 

And  foolish  old  odds  and  foolish  old  ends, 

Crack'd  bargains  from  brokers,  cheap  keepsakes  from  friends. 

Old  armour,  prints,  pictures,  pij)es,  china,  (all  crack'd,) 
Old  rickety  tables,  and  chairs  broken-backed; 
A  twopenny  treasury,  wondrous  to  sec; 
What  matter?   'tis  pleasant  to  you,  friend,  and  me. 

59 


60  BALLADS 

No  better  divan  need  the  Sultan  require, 
Than  the  creaking  old  sofa  that  basks  by  the  fire ; 
And  'tis  wonderful,  surely,  what  music  you  get 
From  the  rickety,  ramshackle,  wheezy  spinet. 

That  praying-rug  came  from  a  Turcoman's  camp; 
By  Tiber  once  twinkled  that  brazen  old  lamp; 
A  Mameluke  fierce  yonder  dagger  has  drawn; 
'Tis  a  murderous  knife  to  toast  muffins  upon. 

Long,  long  through  the  hours,  and  the  night,  and  the  chimes, 
Here  we  talk  of  old  books,  and  old  friends,  and  old  times ; 
As  we  sit  in  a  fog  made  of  rich  Latakie 
This  chamber  is  pleasant  to  you,  friend,  and  me. 

But  of  all  the  cheap  treasures  that  garnish  my  nest, 
There's  one  that  I  love  and  I  cherish  the  best: 
For  the  finest  of  couches  that's  padded  with  hair 
I  never  would  change  thee,  my  cane-bottom'd  chair. 

'Tis  a  bandy-legg'd,  high-shoulder'd  worm-eaten  seat, 
With  a  creaking  old  back,  and  twisted  old  feet ; 
But  since  the  fair  morning  when  Fanny  sat  there, 
I  bless  thee  and  love  thee,  old  cane-bottom'd  chair. 

If  chairs  have  but  feeling,  in  holding  such  charms, 

A  thrill  must  have  pass'd  through  your  wither'd  old  arms ! 

I  look'd,  and  I  long'd,  and  I  wish'd  in  despair; 

I  wish'd  myself  turn'd  to  a  cane-bottom'd  chair. 

It  was  but  a  moment  she  sat  in  this  place, 

She'd  a  scarf  on  her  neck,  and  a  smile  on  her  face ! 

A  smile  on  her  face,  and  a  rose  in  her  hair. 

And  she  sat  there,  and  bloom'd  in  my  cane-bottom'd  chair. 


THE    CANE-BOTTOM'D    CHAIR        Gl 

And  so  I  have  valued  my  chair  ever  since, 

Like  the  shrine  of  a  saint,  or  the  throne  of  a  prince ; 

Saint  Fanny,  my  patroness  sweet  I  declare, 

The  queen  of  my  heart  and  my  canc-bottom'd  chair. 

When  the  candles  burn  low,  and  the  company's  gone, 
In  the  silence  of  night  as  I  sit  here  alone — 
I  sit  here  alone,  but  we  yet  are  a  pair — 
]My  Fanny  I  see  in  my  cane-bottom'd  chair. 

She  comes  from  the  past  and  revisits  my  room ; 
She  looks  as  she  then  did,  all  beauty  and  bloom ; 
So  smiling  and  tender,  so  fresh  and  so  fair. 
And  yonder  she  sits  in  my  cane-bottom'd  chair. 


PISCATOR  AND   PISCATRIX 


LINES    WRITTEN    TO    AN    ALBUM    PRINT 

As  on  this  pictured  page  I  look, 
This  pretty  tale  of  line  and  hook 
As  though  it  were  a  novel-book 

Amuses  and  engages : 
I  know  them  both,  the  boy  and  girl; 
She  is  the  daughter  of  the  Earl, 
The  lad  (that  has  his  hair  in  curl) 

My  lord  the  County's  page  is. 

A  pleasant  place  for  such  a  pair ! 
The  fields  lie  basking  in  the  glare; 
No  breath  of  wind  the  heavy  air 

Of  lazy  summer  quickens. 
Hard  by  you  see  the  castle  tall; 
The  village  nestles  round  the  wall, 
As  round  about  the  hen  its  small 

Young  progeny  of  chickens. 

It  is  too  hot  to  pace  the  keep ; 
To  climb  the  turret  is  too  steep ; 
My  lord  the  earl  is  dozing  deep, 

His  noonday  dinner  over: 
The  postern-warder  is  asleep 
(Perhaps  they've  bribed  him  not  to  peep) 
And  so  from  out  the  gate  they  creep, 

And  cross  the  fields  of  clover. 

62 


PISCATOR    AND    PISCATRIX  63 

Their  lines  into  the  brook  thej  launch ; 
He  lays  his  cloak  upon  a  branch, 
To  guarantee  his  Lady  Blanche 

's  delicate  complexion : 
He  takes  his  rapier  from  his  haunch, 
That  beardless  doughty  champion  staunch; 
He'd  drill  it  through  the  rival's  paunch 

That  question'd  his  affection ! 

O  heedless  pair  of  sportsmen  slack 
You  never  mark,  though  trout  or  jack. 
Or  little  foolish  stickleback, 

Your  baited  snares  may  capture. 
What  care  has  she  for  line  and  hook? 
She  turns  her  back  upon  the  brook, 
Upon  her  lover's  eyes  to  look 

In  sentimental  rapture. 

O  loving  pair !  as  thus  I  gaze 
Upon  the  girl  who  smiles  always, 
The  little  hand  that  ever  plays 

Upon  the  lover's  shoulder; 
In  looking  at  your  pretty  shapes, 
A  sort  of  envious  wish  escapes 
(Such  as  the  Fox  had  for  the  grapes,) 

The  Poet  your  beholder. 

To  be  brave,  handsome,  twenty -two; 
With  nothing  else  on  earth  to  do. 
But  all  day  long  to  bill  and  coo: 

It  were  a  pleasant  culling. 
And  had  I  such  a  partner  sweet; 
A  tender  heart  for  mine  to  beat, 
A  gentle  hand  my  clasp  to  meet;  — 
I'd  let  the  world  flow  at  my  feet, 

And  never  heed  its  brawling. 


THE   ROSE   UPON   MY   BALCONY 

The  rose  upon  my  balcony  the  morning  air  perfuming, 
Was  leafless  all  the  winter  time  and  pining  for  the  spring ; 
You  ask  me  why  her  breath  is  sweet,  and  why  her  cheek  is 

blooming, 
It  is  because  the  sun  is  out  and  birds  begin  to  sing. 

The  nightingale,  whose  melody  is  through  the  greenwood 

ringing, 
Was  silent  when  the  boughs  were  bare  and  winds  were  blowing 

keen: 
And  if.  Mamma,  you  ask  of  me  the  reason  of  his  singing. 
It  is  because  the  sun  is  out  and  all  the  leaves  are  green. 

Thus  each  performs  his  part,  Mamma :  the  birds  have  found 

their  voices. 
The  blowing  rose  a  flush,  Mamma,  her  bonny  cheek  to  dye ; 
And  there's  sunshine  in  my  heart.  Mamma,  which  wakens  and 

rejoices,    > 
And  so  I  sing  and  blush,  Mamma,  and  that's  the  reason  why. 


64 


RONSARD   TO  HIS  MISTRESS 

"  Quand  vous  serez  bien  vieille,  le  soir  h.  la  chandelle 
Assise  aupres  du  feu  devisant  et  filant, 
Direz,  chantant  raes  vers  en  vous  esraerveillant, 
Ronsard  m'a  c^lebr^  du  temps  que  j'^tois  belle." 

Some  winter  night,  shut  snugly  in 

Beside  the  fagot  in  the  hall, 
I  think  I  see  you  sit  and  spin, 

Surrounded  by  your  maidens  all. 
Old  tales  are  told,  old  songs  are  sung, 

Old  days  come  back  to  memory ; 
You  say,  "  When  I  was  fair  and  young, 

A  poet  sang  of  me !  " 

There's  not  a  maiden  in  your  hall. 

Though  tired  and  sleepy  ever  so, 
But  wakes,  as  you  my  name  recall. 

And  longs  the  history  to  know. 
And,  as  the  piteous  tale  is  said. 

Of  lady  cold  and  lover  true, 
Each,  musing,  carries  it  to  bed, 

And  sighs  and  envies  you ! 

"  Our  lady's  old  and  feeble  now," 

Tliey'U  say ;  "  she  once  was  fresh  and  fair, 
And  yet  she  spurn'd  her  lover's  vow. 
And  heartless  left  him  to  despair: 


65 


66  BALLADS 

The  lover  lies  in  silent  earth, 

No  kindly  mate  the  lady  cheers; 

She  sits  beside  a  lonely  hearth, 
With  threescore  and  ten  years !  " 

Ah !   dreary  thoughts  and  dreams  are  those. 

But  wherefore  yield  me  to  despair, 
While  yet  the  poet's  bosom  glows. 

While  yet  the  dame  is  peerless  fair ! 
Sweet  lady  mine !   while  yet  'tis  time 

Requite  my  passion  and  my  truth, 
And  gather  in  their  blushing  prime 

The  roses  of  your  youth ! 


AT  THE   CHURCH   GATE 

Although  I  enter  not, 
Yet  round  about  the  spot 

Ofttimes  I  hover: 
And  near  the  sacred  gate. 
With  longing  eyes  I  wait, 

Expectant  of  her. 

The  Minster  bell  tolls  out 
Above  the  city's  rout. 

And  noise  and  humming: 
They've  hush'd  the  Minster  bell: 
The  organ  'gins  to  swell : 

She's  coming,  she's  coming ! 


THE    AGE    OF    WISDOM  67 

My  lad}''  comes  at  last, 
Timid,  and  stepping  fast, 

And  hastening  hither, 
With  modest  eyes  downcast: 
She  comes— she's  here— she's  past — 

May  heaven  go  with  her ! 


Kneel,  undisturb'd,  fair  Saint ! 
Pour  out  your  praise  or  plaint 

Meekly  and  duly ; 
I  will  not  enter  there. 
To  sully  your  pure  prayer 

With  thoughts  unruly. 

But  suffer  me  to  pace 
Round  the  forbidden  place, 

Lingering  a  minute 
Like  outcast  spirits  who  wait 
And  see  through  heaven's  gate 

Angels  within  it. 


THE   AGE   OF  WISDOM 

Ho,  pretty  page,  with  the  dimpled  chin, 

That  never  has  known  the  Barber's  shear, 
All  your  wish  is  woman  to  win, 
This  is  the  way  that  boys  begin,- 
Wait  till  you  come  to  Forty  Year. 


68  BALLADS 

Curly  gold  locks  cover  foolish  brains, 

Billing  and  cooing  is  all  your  cheer; 
Sighing  and  singing  of  midnight  strains, 
Under  Bonnybell's  window  panes, — 
Wait  till  you  come  to  Forty  Year. 

Forty  times  over  let  Michaelmas  pass. 

Grizzling  hair  the  brain  doth  clear — 
Then  you  know  a  boy  is  an  ass. 
Then  you  know  the  worth  of  a  lass. 
Once  you  have  come  to  Forty  Year. 

Pledge  me  round,  I  bid  ye  declare, 

All  good  fellows  whose  beards  are  grey, 
Did  not  the  fairest  of  the  fair 
Common  grow  and  wearisome  ere 
Ever  a  month  was  pass'd  away  ? 

The  reddest  lips  that  ever  have  kissed. 

The  brightest  eyes  that  ever  have  shone, 
May  pray  and  whisper,  and  we  not  list. 
Or  look  away,  and  never  be  missed. 
Ere  yet  ever  a  month  is  gone. 

Gillian's  dead,  God  rest  her  bier. 

How  I  loved  her  twenty  years  syne ! 
Marian's  married,  but  I  sit  here 
Alone  and  merry  at  Forty  Year, 

Dipping  my  nose  in  the  Gascon  wine. 


SORROWS  OF  WERTHER 

Werther  had  a  love  for  Charlotte 
Such  as  words  could  never  utter ; 

Would  you  know  how  first  he  met  her? 
She  was  cutting  bread  and  butter. 

Charlotte  was  a  married  lady, 
And  a  moral  man  was  Werther, 

And,  for  all  the  wealth  of  Indies, 
Would  do  nothing  for  to  hurt  her. 

So  he  sighed  and  pined  and  ogled, 
And  his  passion  boiled  and  bubbled, 

Till  he  blew  his  silly  brains  out. 
And  no  more  was  by  it  troubled. 

Charlotte,  having  seen  his  body 
Borne  before  her  on  a  shutter, 

Like  a  well-conducted  person, 

Went  on  cutting  bread  and  butter. 


A  DOE  IN  THE  CITY 

Little  Kitty  Loiiimer, 

Fair,  and  young,  and  witty, 

Wliat  has  brought  your  ladyship 
Rambling  to  the  City  ? 
69 


70  BALLADS 

All  the  Stags  in  Capel  Court 

Saw  her  lightly  trip  it ; 
All  the  lads  of  Stock  Exchange 

Twigg'd  her  muff  and  tippet. 

With  a  sweet  perplexity, 

And  a  mystery  pretty, 
Threading  througli  Threadneedle  Street, 

Trots  the  little  Kitty. 

What  was  my  astonishment — 
What  was  my  compunction, 

When  she  reached  the  Offices 
Of  the  Didland  Junction ! 

Up  the  Didland  stairs  she  went. 
To  the  Didland  door,  Sir; 

Porters  lost  in  wonderment. 
Let  her  pass  before,  Sir. 

"  Madam,"  says  the  old  chief  Clerk, 

"  Sure  we  can't  admit  ye." 
"Where's  the  Didland  Junction  deed.''" 
Dauntlessly  says  Kitty. 

"  If  you  doubt  my  honesty, 
Look  at  my  receipt.  Sir." 
Up  then  jumps  the  old  chief  Clerk, 
Smiling  as  he  meets  her. 

Kitty  at  the  table  sits 

(Whither  the  old  Clerk  leads  her), 
"  I  deliver  this,"  she  says, 
"  As  my  act  and  deed.  Sir." 


A  DOE   IX   THE   CITY 

When  I  heard  these  funny  words 
Come  from  lips  so  pretty  ; 

This,  I  thought,  should  surely  be 
Subject  for  a  ditty. 

What!   are  ladies  stagging  it? 

Sure,  the  more's  the  pity; 
But  I've  lost  my  heart  to  her,— 

Naughty  little  Kitty. 


71 


LoMsod    Attn 
CRETHA 


V      n 


THE  LAST  OF  MAY 

(in  reply  to   an  invitation   dated   on   the  1st) 

By  fate's  benevolent  award, 

Should  I  survive  the  day, 
I'll  drink  a  bumper  with  my  lord 

Upon  the  last  of  May. 

That  I  may  reach  that  happy  time 

The  kindly  gods  I  pray. 
For  are  not  ducks  and  pease  in  prime 

Upon  the  last  of  May  ? 

At  thirty  boards,  'twixt  now  and  then, 
My  knife  and  fork  shall  play ; 

But  better  wine  and  better  men 
I  shall  not  meet  in  May. 

And  though,  good  friend,  with  whom  I  dine, 

Your  honest  head  is  grey. 
And,  like  this  grizzled  head  of  mine. 

Has  seen  its  last  of  May ; 

Yet,  with  a  heart  that's  ever  kind, 

A  gentle  spirit  gay, 
You've  spring  perennial  in  your  mind, 

And  round  you  make  a  May ! 
T9 


"AH,  BLEAK  AND  BARREN  WAS  THE 

MOOR  " 

Ah  !   bleak  and  barren  was  the  moor, 

Ah!   loud  and  piercing  was  the  storm, 
The  cottage  roof  was  shelter'd  sure, 

The  cottage  hearth  was  bright  and  warm — 
An  orphan-boy  the  lattice  pass'd, 

And,  as  he  mark'd  its  cheerful  glow. 
Felt  doubly  keen  the  midnight  blast, 

And  doubly  cold  the  fallen  snow. 

They  marked  him  as  he  onward  press'd. 

With  fainting  heart  and  weary  limb; 
Kind  voices  bade  him  turn  and  rest. 

And  gentle  faces  welcomed  him. 
The  dawn  is  up — the  guest  is  gone. 

The  cottage  hearth  is  blazing  still : 
Heaven  pity  all  poor  wanderers  lone ! 

Hark  to  the  wind  upon  the  hill! 


73 


SONG   OF    THE    VIOLET 

A  humble  flower  long  time  I  pined 

Upon  the  solitary  plain, 
And  trembled  at  the  angry  wind, 

And  shrunk  before  the  bitter  rain. 
And  oh!    'twas  in  a  blessed  hour 

A  passing  wanderer  chanced  to  see, 
And,  pitying  the  lonely  flower. 

To  stoop  and  gather  me. 

I  fear  no  more  the  tempest  rude. 

On  dreary  heath  no  more  I  pine. 
But  left  my  cheerless  solitude, 

To  deck  the  breast  of  Caroline. 
Alas  our  days  are  brief  at  best, 

Nor  long  I  fear  will  mine  endure, 
Though  shelter'd  here  upon  a  breast 

So  gentle  and  so  pure. 

It  draws  the  fragrance  from  my  leaves, 

It  robs  me  of  my  sweetest  breath, 
And  every  time  it  falls  and  heaves, 

It  warns  me  of  my  coming  death. 
But  one  I  know  would  glad  forego 

All  joys  of  life  to  be  as  I ; 
An  hour  to  rest  on  that  sweet  breast, 

And  then,  contented,  die. 


74 


FAIRY  DAYS 

Beside  the  old  hall-fire — upon  my  nurse's  knee, 
Of  happy  fairy  days — what  tales  were  told  to  me! 
I  thought  the  world  was  once — all  peopled  with  princesses, 
And  my  heart  would  beat  to  hear — their  loves  and  their  dis- 
tresses ; 
And  many  a  quiet  night, — in  slumber  sweet  and  deep. 
The  pretty  fairy  people — would  visit  me  in  sleep. 

I  saw  them  in  my  dreams — come  flying  east  and  west, 
With  wondrous  fairy  gifts — the  new-born  babe  they  bless'd; 
One  has  brought  a  jewel — and  one  a  crown  of  gold. 
And  one  has  brought  a  curse — but  she  is  wrinkled  and  old. 
The  gentle  queen  turns  pale — to  hear  those  words  of  sin, 
But  the  king  he  only  laughs — and  bids  the  dance  begin. 

The  babe  has  grown  to  be — the  fairest  of  the  land, 
And  rides  the  forest  green — a  hawk  upon  her  hand. 
An  ambling  palfrey  white — a  golden  robe  and  crown: 
I've  seen  her  in  my  dreams  —  riding  up  and  down: 
And  heard  the  ogre  laugh — as  she  fell  into  his  snare. 
At  the  little  tender  creature— who  wept  and  tore  her  hair! 

But  ever  when  it  seemed  —  her  need  was  at  the  sorest, 
A  prince  in  shining  mail  —  comes  prancing  through  the  forest, 
A  waving  ostrich-plume — a  buckler  burnished  bright; 
I've  seen  him  in  my  dreams  — good  sooth!   a  gallant  knight. 
His  lips  are  coral  red — beneath  a  dark  moustache; 
See  how  he  waves  his  hand— and  how  his  blue  eyes  flash! 

75 


76  BALLADS 

"  Come  forth,  thou  Paynim  knight!  "—he  shouts  in  accents 
clear. 
The  giant  and  the  maid— both  tremble  his  voice  to  hear. 
Saint  Mary  guard  him  well!— he  draws  his  falchion  keen, 
The  giant  and  the  knight— are  fighting  on  the  green. 
I  see  them  in  my  dreams— his  blade  gives  stroke  on  stroke, 
The  giant  pants  and  reels  — and  tumbles  like  an  oak! 

With  what  a  blushing  grace— he  falls  upon  his  knee 

And  takes  the  lady's  hand— and  whispers,  "  You  are  free!  " 

Ah!  happy  childish  tales— of  knight  and  faerie! 

I  waken  from  my  dreams— but  there's  ne'er  a  knight  for  me; 

I  Avaken  from  my  dreams— and  wish  that  I  could  be 

A  child  by  the  old  hall-fire— upon  my  nurse's  knee! 


POCAHONTAS 

Wearied  arm  and  broken  sword 
Wage  in  vain  the  desperate  fight : 

Round  him  press  a  countless  horde, 
He  is  but  a  single  knight. 

Hark !   a  cry  of  triumph  shrill 
Through  the  wilderness  resounds, 
As,  with  twenty  bleeding  wounds, 

Sinks  the  warrior,  fighting  still. 

Now  they  heap  the  fatal  pyre, 

And  the  torch  of  death  they  light: 

Ah !   'tis  hard  to  die  of  fire ! 

Who  will  shield  the  captive  knight? 

Round  the  stake  with  fiendish  cry 
Wheel  and  dance  the  savage  crowd, 
Cold  the  victim's  mien,  and  proud. 

And  his  breast  is  bared  to  die. 

Who  will  shield  the  fearless  heart? 

Who  avert  the  nmrdcrous  blade? 
From  the  throng,  with  sudden  start, 

See  there  springs  an  Indian  maid. 
Quick  she  stands  before  the  knight, 
"  Loose  the  chain,  unl)ind  the  ring, 

I  am  daughter  of  the  king, 
And  I  claim  the  Indian  right!  " 
7T 


78  BALLADS 

Dauntlessly  aside  she  flings 
Lifted  axe  and  thirst}^  knife; 

Fondly  to  his  heart  she  cHngs, 
And  her  bosom  guards  his  hfe! 

In  the  woods  of  Powhattan, 
Still  'tis  told  by  Indian  fires, 
How  a  daughter  of  their  sires 

Saved  the  captive  Englishman. 


FROM   POCAHONTAS 

Returning  from  the  cruel  fight 
How  pale  and  faint  appears  my  knight ! 
He  sees  me  anxious  at  his  side ; 
"  Why  seek,  my  love,  your  wounds  to  hide? 
Or  deem  your  English  girl  afraid 
To  emulate  the  Indian  maid  ?  " 

Be  mine  my  husband's  grief  to  cheer, 
In  peril  to  be  ever  near ; 
Whate'er  of  ill  or  woe  betide. 
To  bear  it  clinging  at  his  side ; 
The  poisoned  stroke  of  fate  to  ward, 
His  bosom  with  my  own  to  guard : 
Ah !    could  it  spare  a  pang  to  his. 
It  could  not  know  a  purer  bliss ! 
'Twould  gladden  as  it  felt  the  smart. 
And  thank  the  hand  that  flung;  the  dart ! 


LOVE-SONGS  MADE  EASY 


WHAT    MAKES    MY    HEART    TO    THRILL 
AND    GLOW? 

THE    MAYFAIR    LOVE-SONG 

Winter  and  summer,  night  and  morn, 
I  languish  at  this  table  dark; 

My  office  window  has  a  corn- 
er looks  into  St.  James's  Park. 

I  hear  the  foot-guards'  bugle-horn, 
Their  tramp  upon  parade  I  mark ; 

I  am  a  gentleman  forlorn, 
I  am  a  Foreign-Office  Clerk. 

My  toils,  my  pleasures,  every  one, 

I  find  are  stale,  and  dull,  and  slow; 
And  yesterday,  when  work  was  done, 

I  felt  myself  so  sad  and  low, 
I  could  have  seized  a  sentry's  gun 

My  wearied  brains  out  out  to  blow. 
What  is  it  makes  my  blood  to  run? 

What  makes  my  heart  to  beat  and  glow? 

My  notes  of  hand  are  burnt,  perhaps? 

Some  one  has  paid  my  tailor's  bill? 
No:  every  morn  the  tailor  raps; 

My  I  O  U's  arc  extant  still. 
T9 


80  LOVE-SONGS  MADE  EASY 

I  still  am  prey  of  debt  and  dun ; 

My  elder  brother's  stout  and  well. 
What  is  it  makes  my  blood  to  run  ? 

What  makes  my  heart  to  glow  and  swell? 

I  know  my  chief's  distrust  and  hate ; 

He  says  I'm  lazy,  and  I  shirk. 
Ah !  had  I  genius  like  the  late 

Right  Honourable  Edmund  Burke! 
My  chance  of  all  promotion's  gone, 

I  know  it  is, — he  hates  me  so. 
What  is  it  makes  my  blood  to  run. 

And  all  my  heart  to  swell  and  glow? 

Why,  why  is  all  so  bright  and  gay? 

There  is  no  change,  there  is  no  cause ; 
My  office-time  I  found  to-day 

Disgusting  as  it  ever  was. 
At  three,  I  went  and  tried  the  Clubs, 

And  yawned  and  saunter'd  to  and  fro ; 
And  now  my  heart  jumps  up  and  throbs, 

And  all  my  soul  is  in  a  glow. 

At  half-past  four  I  had  the  cab ; 
I  drove  as  hard  as  I  could  go. 

The  London  sky  was  dirty  drab. 

And  dirty  brown  the  London  snow. 

And  as  I  rattled  in  a  cant- 
er down  by  dear  old  Bolton  Row, 

A  something  made  my  heart  to  pant, 
And  caused  my  check  to  flush  and  glow. 

What  could  it  be  that  made  me  find 
Old  Jawkins  pleasant  at  the  Club? 

Why  was  it  that  I  laughed  and  grinned 
At  whist,  although  I  lost  the  rub? 


WHAT  MAKES  MY  HEART  TO  THRILL?  81 

What  was  it  made  me  drink  like  mad 
Thirteen  small  glasses  of  Cura^o? 

That  made  my  inmost  heart  so  glad, 
And  eA'cry  fibre  thrill  and  glow? 

She's  home  again  !  she's  home,  she's  home ! 

Away  all  cares  and  griefs  and  pain ; 
I  knew  she  would— she's  back  from  Rome; 

She's  home  again  !   she's  home  again  ! 
"  The  family's  gone  abroad,"  they  said, 

September  last— they  told  me  so; 
Since  then  my  lonely  heart  is  dead. 

My  blood  I  think's  forgot  to  flow. 

She's  home  again!   away  all  care! 

O  fairest  form  the  world  can  show ! 
O  beaming  eyes  !     O  golden  hair  ! 

O  tender  voice,  that  breathes  so  low ! 
O  gentlest,  softest,  purest  heart ! 

O  joy,  O  hope  !— "  My  tiger,  ho !  " 
Fitz-Clarence  said;  we  saw  him  start — 

He  galloped  down  to  Bolton  Row. 


THE  GHAZUL,  OR  ORIENTAL  LOVE-SONG 

THE  ROCKS 

I  WAS  a  timid  little  antelope ; 

My  home  was  in  the  rocks,  the  lonely  rocks. 

I  saw  the  hunters  scouring  on  the  plain ; 
I  lived  among  the  rocks,  the  lonely  rocks. 

I  was  a-thirsty  in  the  summer-heat; 

I  ventured  to  the  tents  beneath  the  rocks. 

Zuleikah  brought  me  water  from  the  well ; 
Since  then  I  have  been  faithless  to  the  rocks. 

I  saw  her  face  reflected  in  the  well; 

Her  camels  since  have  marched  into  the  rocks. 

I  look  to  see  her  image  in  the  well ; 
I  only  see  my  eyes,  my  own  sad  eyes. 
My  mother  is  alone  among  the  rocks. 


THE  MERRY  BARD 

ZuLEiKAH !  The  young  Agas  in  the  bazaar  are  sHm-waisted 
and  wear  yellow  slippers.  I  am  old  and  hideous.  One  of  my 
eyes  is  out,  and  the  hairs  of  my  beard  are  mostly  grey.  Praise 
be  to  Allah !     I  am  a  merry  bard. 

There  is  a  bird  upon  the  terrace  of  the  Emir's  chief  wife. 
Praise  be  to  Allah  !  He  has  emeralds  on  his  neck,  and  a  ruby  tail. 
I  am  a  merry  bard.  He  deafens  me  with  his  diabolical  scream- 
ing. 

There  is  a  little  brown  bird  in  the  basket-maker's  cage.  Praise 
be  to  Allah !  He  ravishes  my  soul  in  the  moonlight.  I  am  a 
merry  bard. 

The  peacock  is  an  Aga,  but  the  little  bird  is  a  Bulbul. 

I  am  a  little  brown  Bulbul.  Come  and  listen  in  the  moonlight. 
Praise  be  to  Allah  !    I  am  a  merry  bard. 


83 


THE   CAIQUE 

Yonder  to  the  kiosk,  beside  the  creek, 

Paddle  tlie  swift  caique. 

Thou  brawny  oarsman  with  the  sun-burnt  cheek, 

Quick !  for  it  soothes  my  heart  to  hear  the  Bulbul  speak. 

Ferry  me  quickly  to  the  Asian  shores, 

Swift  bending  to  your  oars. 

Beneath  the  melancholy  sycamores, 

Hark !  what  a  ravishing  note  the  love-lorn  Bulbul  pours. 

Behold,  the  boughs  seem  quivering  with  delight. 

The  stars  themselves  more  bright, 

As  mid  the  waving  branches  out  of  sight 

The  Lover  of  the  Rose  sits  singing  through  the  night. 

Under  the  boughs  I  sat  and  listened  still, 
I  could  not  have  my  fill. 
"  How  comes,"  I  said,  "  such  music  to  his  bill  ? 
Tell  me  for  whom  he  sings  so  beautiful  a  trill." 

"  Once  I  was  dumb,"  then  did  the  Bird  disclose, 

"  But  looked  upon  the  Rose ; 
And  in  the  garden  where  the  loved  one  grows, 
I  straightway  did  begin  sweet  music  to  compose." 

84 


THE  CAIQUE 


85 


"  O  bird  of  song,  there's  one  in  this  caique 
The  Rose  would  also  seek, 
So  he  might  learn  like  yon  to  love  and  speak." 
Then  answered  me  the  bird  of  dusky  beak, 

"  The  Rose,  the  Rose  of  Love  blushes  on  Leilah's  cheek." 


MY  NORA 

Beneath  the  gold  acacia,  buds 
My  gentle  Nora  sits  and  broods, 
Far,  far  away  in  Boston  woods 

My  gentle  Nora ! 

I  see  the  tear-drop  in  her  e'e, 
Her  bosom's  heaving  tenderly ; 
I  know — I  know  she  thinks  of  me, 

My  darling  Nora ! 

And  where  am  I?    My  love,  whilst  thou 
Sitt'st  sad  beneath  the  acacia  bough. 
Where  pearl's  on  neck,  and  wreath  on  brow, 
I  stand,  my  Nora! 

Mid  carcanet  and  coronet, 
Where  joy-lamps  shine  and  flowers  are  set — 
Where  England's  chivalry  are  met, 
Behold  me,  Nora ! 

In  this  strange  scene  of  revelry, 
Amidst  this  gorgeous  chivalry, 
A  form  I  saw  was  like  to  thee. 

My  love — my  Nora! 

She  paused  amidst  her  converse  glad ; 
The  lady  saw  that  I  was  sad, 
She  pitied  the  poor  lonely  lad, — 

Dost  love  her,  Nora? 

In  sooth,  she  is  a  lovely  dame, 
A  lip  of  red,  and  eye  of  flame, 
And  clustering  golden  locks,  the  same 
As  thine,  dear  Nora ! 

86 


MY  NORA  87 

Her  glance  Is  softer  than  the  dawn's, 
Her  foot  is  Hghter  than  the  fawn's, 
Her  breast  is  whiter  than  the  swan's. 
Or  thine,  my  Nora! 

Oh,  gentle  breast  to  pity  me ! 
Oh,  lovely  Ladye  Emily  ! 
Till  death— till  death  I'll  think  of  thee— 
Of  thee  and  Nora ! 


TO  MARY 


I  SEEM,  in  the  midst  of  the  crowd. 

The  lightest  of  all ; 
My  laughter  rings  cheery  and  loud, 

In  banquet  and  ball. 
My  lip  hath  its  smiles  and  its  sneers. 

For  all  men  to  see ; 
But  my  soul,  and  my  truth,  and  my  tears. 

Arc  for  thee,  are  for  thee ! 

Around  me  they  flatter  and  fawn — 

The  young  and  the  old, 
The  fairest  are  ready  to  pawn 

Their  hearts  for  my  gold. 
They  sue  me— I  laugh  as  I  spurn 

The  slaves  at  my  knee ; 
But  in  faith  and  in  fondness  I  turn 

Unto  thee,  unto  thee! 


SERENADE 

Now  the  toils  of  day  are  over, 
And  the  sun  hath  sunk  to  rest, 

Seeking,  hke  a  fiery  lover, 

The  bosom  of  the  blushing  west — 

The  faithful  night  keeps  watch  and  ward, 
Raising  the  moon  her  silver  shield, 

And  summoning  the  stars  to  guard 
The  slumbers  of  my  fair  Mathilde! 

The  faithful  night !    Now  all  things  lie 
Hid  by  her  mantle  dark  and  dim. 

In  pious  hope  I  hither  hie. 

And  humbly  chaunt  mine  ev'ning  hymn. 

Thou  art  my  prayer,  my  saint,  my  shrine ! 

(For  never  holy  pilgrim  kneel'd, 
Or  wept  at  feet  more  pure  than  thine), 

My  virgin  love,  my  sweet  Mathilde! 


88 


THE   MINARET   BELLS 

TiNK-A-TiNK,  tink-a-tink, 
By  the  light  of  the  star, 

On  the  blue  river's  brink, 
I  heard  a  guitar. 

-I  heard  a  guitar, 

On  the  blue  waters  clear. 
And  knew  by  its  music, 

That  Selim  was  near ! 

Tink-a-tink,  tink-a-tink. 
How  the  soft  music  swells, 

And  I  hear  the  soft  clink 
Of  the  minaret  bells ! 


89 


COME   TO   THE   GREENWOOD   TREE 

Come  to  the  greenwood  tree, 
Come  where  the  dark  woods  be, 
Dearest,  O  come  with  me ! 
Let  us  rove— O  my  love— O  my  love! 

Come— 'tis  the  moonlight  hour, 
Dew  is  on  leaf  and  flower. 
Come  to  the  linden  bower, — 
Let  us  rove— O  my  love— O  my  love! 

Dark  is  the  wood,  and  wide: 
Dangers,  they  say,  betide ; 
But,  at  my  Albert's  side. 
Nought  I  fear,  O  my  love— O  my  love! 

Welcome  the  greenwood  tree. 
Welcome  the  forest  free. 
Dearest,  with  thee,  with  thee. 
Nought  I  fear,  O  my  love— 0  my  love! 


90 


FIVE  GERMAN  DITTIES 


A  TRAGIC   STORY 

BY    ADELBERT    VON     CHAMISSO 
" 's  war  Einer,  dera's  zu  Herzen  gieng." 

There  lived  a  sage  in  days  of  yore 
And  he  a  handsome  pigtail  wore ; 
But  wondered  much  and  sorrowed  more      * 
Because  it  hung  behind  him. 

He  mused  upon  this  curious  case, 

And  swore  he'd  change  the  pigtail's  place, 

And  have  it  hanging  at  his  face, 

Not  dangling  there  behind  him. 

Says  he,  "  The  myster}^  I've  found, — 
I'll  turn  me  round," — he  turned  him  round; 
But  still  it  hung  behind  him. 

Then  round,  and  round,  and  out  and  in, 
All  day  the  puzzled  sage  did  spin ; 
In  vain  —  it  mattered  not  a  pin,— 

The  pigtail  hung  behind  him. 
91 


92  FIVE  GERMAN  DITTIES 

And  right,  and  left,  and  round  about, 
And  up,  and  down,  and  in,  and  out, 
He  turned ;  but  still  the  pigtail  stout 
Hung  steadily  behind  him. 

And  though  his  efforts  never  slack. 

And  though  he  twist,  and  twirl,  and  tack, 

Alas !   still  faithful  to  his  back 

The  pigtail  hangs  behind  him. 


THE  CHAPLET 

FROM    UHLAND 

"  Es  pfliickte  Bliimlein  mannigfalt." 

A  LITTLE  girl  through  field  and  wood 
Went  plucking  flowerets  here  and  there, 

When  suddenly  beside  her  stood 
A  lady  wondrous  fair! 

The  lovely  lady  smiled,  and  laid 
A  wreath  upon  the  maiden's  brow; 
"  Wear  it,  'twill  blossom  soon,"  she  said, 
"  Although  'tis  leafless  now." 

The  little  maiden  older  grew 

And  wandered  forth  of  moonlight  eves. 
And  sighed  and  loved  as  maids  will  do ; 

When,  lo !  her  wreath  bore  leaves. 

Then  was  our  maid  a  wife,  and  hung 
Upon  a  joyful  bridegroom's  bosom; 

When  from  the  garland's  leaves  there  sprung 
Fair  store  of  blossom. 


THE  KING  ON  THE  TOWER  93 

And  presently  a  baby  fair 

Upon  her  gentle  breast  she  reared ; 
When  midst  the  wreath  that  bound  her  hair 

Rich  golden  fruit  appeared. 

But  when  her  love  lay  cold  in  death, 

Sunk  in  the  black  and  silent  tomb, 
All  sere  and  withered  was  the  wreath 

That  wont  so  bright  to  bloom. 

Yet  still  the  withered  wreath  she  wore ; 

She  wore  it  at  her  dying  hour ; 
When,  lo!    the  wondrous  garland  bore 

Both  leaf,  and  fruit,  and  flower! 


THE   KING   ON   THE   TOWER 


FROM  UHLAND 


"  Da  liegen  sie  alle,  die  grauen  Hbhen." 

The  cold  grey  hills  they  bind  me  around, 
The  darksome  valleys  lie  sleeping  below. 

But  the  winds  as  they  pass  o'er  all  this  ground, 
Bring  me  never  a  sound  of  woe ! 

Oh !   for  all  I  have  suffered  and  striven. 

Care  has  embittered  my  cup  and  my  feast ; 

But  here  is  the  night  and  the  dark  blue  heaven. 
And  my  soul  shall  be  at  rest. 

O  golden  legends  writ  in  the  skies ! 

I  turn  towards  you  with  longing  soul, 
And  list  to  the  awful  harmonies 

Of  the  Spheres  as  on  they  roll. 


94  FIVE   GERMAN   DITTIES 

My  hair  is  grey  and  my  sight  nigh  gone ; 

My  sword  it  rusteth  upon  the  wall ; 
Right  have  I  spoken,  and  right  have  I  done: 

When  shall  I  rest  me  once  for  all? 

O  blessed  rest !     O  royal  night ! 

Wherefore  seemeth  the  time  so  long 
Till  I  see  yon  stars  in  their  fullest  light, 

And  list  to  their  loudest  song? 


ON  A  VERY  OLD  WOMAN 

I.A  MOTTE  FOUQUE 

"  Und  Du  gingst  einst,  die  Myrt'  im  Haare." 

And  thou  wer't  once  a  maiden  fair, 

A  blushing  virgin  warm  and  young : 
With  myrtles  wreathed  in  golden  hair, 
And  glossy  brow  that  knew  no  care — 
Upon  a  bridegroom's  arm  you  hung. 

The  golden  locks  are  silvered  now. 

The  blushing  cheek  is  pale  and  wan ; 
The  spring  may  bloom,  the  autumn  glow, 
All's  one — in  chimney  corner  thou 
Sitt'st  shivering  on. — 

A  moment — and  thou  sink'st  to  rest! 
To  wake  perhaps  an  angel  blest. 

In  the  bright  presence  of  thy  Lord. 
Oh,  weary  is  life's  path  to  all ! 
Hard  is  the  strife,  and  light  the  fall, 

But  wondrous  the  reward  ! 


A  CREDO 

I 

For  the  sole  edification 
Of  this  decent  congregation, 
Goodly  people,  by  your  grant 
I  will  sing  a  holy  chant— 

I  will  sing  a  holy  chant. 
If  the  ditty  sound  but  oddly, 
'Twas  a  father,  wise  and  godly, 

Sang  it  so  long  ago — 
Then  sing  as  Martin  Luther  sang. 
As  Doctor  Martin  Luther  sang: 
"  Who  loves  not  wine,  woman  and  song, 
He  is  a  fool  his  whole  life  long!  " 

n 

He,  by  custom  patriarchal. 
Loved  to  see  the  beaker  sparkle; 
And  he  thought  the  wine  improved, 
Tasted  by  the  lips  he  loved  — 

By  the  kindly  lips  he  loved. 
Friends,  I  wish  this  custom  pious 
Duly  were  observed  by  us, 

To  combine  love,  song,  wine, 
And  sing  as  Martin  Luther  sang, 
As  Doctor  Martin  Luther  sang : 
"  Who  loves  not  wine,  woman  and  song, 
He  is  a  fool  his  whole  life  long!  " 
95 


96  FIVE   GERMAN   DITTIES 


III 


Who  refuses  this  our  Credo, 
And  who  will  not  sing  as  we  do, 
Were  he  holy  as  John  Knox, 
I'd  pronounce  him  heterodox ! 

I'd  pronunce  him  heterodox, 
And  from  out  this  congregation, 
With  a  solemn  commination. 
Banish  quick  the  heretic, 
Who  will  not  sing  as  Luther  sang. 
As  Doctor  Martin  Luther  sang : 
'  Who  loves  not  wine,  woman  and  song, 
He  is  a  fool  his  whole  life  long !  " 


N 


FOUR  IMITATIONS  OF 
BERANGER 


LE   ROI   D'YVETOT 

II  etait  un  roi  d'Yvetot, 

Peu  connu  dans  I'histoire ; 
Se  levant  tard,  se  couchant  tot, 

Dormant  fort  bien  sans  gloire, 
Et  couronne  par  Jeanneton 
D'un  simple  bonnet  de  coton, 
Dit-on. 
Oh!  oh!  oh!  oh!  ah!  ah!  ah!  ah! 
Quel  bon  petit  roi  c'etait  la ! 
La,  la. 

II  fesait  ses  quatre  repas 

Dans  son  palais  de  chaume, 
Et  sur  un  ane,  pas  a  pas, 

Parcourait  son  royaume. 
Joyeux,  simple  et  croyant  le  bien, 
Pour  toute  garde  il  n'avait  ricn 
Qu'un  chicn. 
Oh  !  oh  I  oil  I  oh  !  ah  !  ah  !  ah  !  ah  !  &c. 
97 


98  FOUR    IMITATIONS    OF    BERANGER 

II  n'avait  de  gout  onereux 

Qu'une  soif  un  peu  vive ; 

Mais,  en  rendant  son  peuple  heureux, 
II  faut  bien  qu'un  roi  vive. 

Lui-meme  a  table,  et  sans  suppot, 

Sur  chaque  muid  levait  un  pot 
D'impot. 
Oh !  oh !  oh !  oh  !  ah !  ah !  ah !  ah !  &c. 

Aux  filles  de  bonnes  maisons 
Comme  il  avait  su  plaire, 

Ses  sujets  avaient  cent  raisons 
De  le  nommer  leur  pere: 

D'ailleurs  il  ne  levait  de  ban 

Que  pour  tirer  quatre  fois  Pan 
Au  blanc. 
Oh !  oh !  oh !  oh  !  ah !  ah !  ah  !  ah !  &c. 

II  n'agrandit  point  ses  etats, 
Fut  un  voisin  commode, 

Et,  modele  des  potentats, 

Prit  le  plaisir  pour  code. 

Ce  n'est  que  lorsqu'il  expira, 

Que  le  peuple  qui  I'enterra 
Pleura. 
Oh  !  oh !  oh  !  oh  !  ah !  ah !  ah !  ah !  &c. 

On  conserve  encor  le  portrait 
De  ce  digne  et  bon  prince; 
C'est  I'enseigne  d'un  cabaret 
Fameux  dans  la  province. 
Les  jours  de  fete,  bien  souvent. 
La  foule  s'ecrie  en  buvant 
Devant : 
Oh !  oh !  oh !  oh  !  ah !  ah !  ah  !  ah !  &c. 


THE    KING   OF   YVETOT 

There  was  a  king  of  Yvetot, 

Of  whom  renown  hath  little  said, 
Who  let  all  thoughts  of  glory  go, 

And  dawdled  half  his  days  a-bed ; 
And  every  night,  as  night  came  round, 
By  Jenny,  with  a  nightcap  crowned, 
Slept  ver}^  sound: 
Sing  ho,  ho,  ho !  and  he,  he,  he ! 
That's  the  kind  of  king  for  me. 

And  every  day  it  came  to  pass, 

That  four  lusty  meals  made  he ; 
And,  step  by  step,  upon  an  ass. 

Rode  abroad,  his  realms  to  see ; 
And  wherever  he  did  stir. 
What  think  you  was  his  escort,  sir? 
Why,  an  old  cur. 
Sing  ho,  ho,  ho  I  &c. 

If  e'er  he  went  into  excess, 

'Twas  from  a  somewhat  lively  thirst ; 
But  he  who  would  his  subjects  bless. 

Odd's  fish!— must  wet  his  whistle  first; 
And  so  from  every  cask  they  got, 
Our  king  did  to  himself  allot, 
At  least  a  pot. 
Sing  ho,  ho !    &c. 
99 


100  FOUR  IMITATIONS   OF  BERANGER 

To  all  the  ladies  of  the  land, 

A  courteous  king,  and  kind,  was  he ; 
The  reason  why  you'll  understand, 

They  named  him  Pater  Patrife. 
Each  year  he  called  his  fighting  men. 
And  marched  a  league  from  home,  and  then 
Marched  back  again. 
Sing  ho,  ho  !   &c. 

Neither  by  force  nor  false  pretence. 

He  sought  to  make  his  kingdom  great. 
And  made  (O  princes,  learn  from  hence)  — 

"  Live  and  let  live,"  his  rule  of  state. 
'Twas  only  when  he  came  to  die, 
That  his  people  who  stood  by. 

Were  known  to  cry. 
Sing  ho,  ho !    &c. 

The  portrait  of  this  best  of  kings 

Is  extant  still,  upon  a  sign 
That  on  a  village  tavern  swings, 

Famed  in  the  country  for  good  wine. 
The  people  in  their  Sunday  trim. 
Filling  their  glasses  to  the  brim. 
Look  up  to  him. 
Singing  ha,  ha,  ha !  and  he,  he,  he ! 
That's  the  sort  of  king  for  me. 


THE    KING    OF    BRENTFORD 


ANOTHER   VERSION 


There  was  a  king  in  Brentford, — of  whom  no  legends  tell, 
But  who,  without  his  glory, — could  eat  and  sleep  right  well. 
His  Polly's  cotton  nightcap, — it  was  his  crown  of  state, 
He  slept  of  evenings  early, — and  rose  of  mornings  late. 

All  in  a  fine  mud  palace, — each  day  he  took  four  meals, 
And  for  a  guard  of  honour, — a  dog  ran  at  his  heels. 
Sometimes,  to  view  his  kingdoms,— rode  forth  this  monarch  good, 
And  then  a  prancing  jackass— he  royally  bestrode. 

There  were  no  costly  habits— with  which  this  king  was  curst. 
Except  (and  where's  the  harm  on't?)— a  somewhat  lively  thirst; 
But  people  must  pay  taxes,— and  kings  must  have  their  sport. 
So  out  of  every  gallon— His  Grace  he  took  a  quart. 

He  pleased  the  ladies  round  him,— with  manners  soft  and  bland; 
With  reason  good,  they  named  him,— the  father  of  his  land. 
Each  year  his  mighty  armies- marched  forth  in  gallant  show;  ' 
Their  enemies  were  targets,— their  bullets  they  were  tow. 

He  vexed  no  quiet  neighbour,— no  useless  conquest  made. 
But  by  the  laws  of  pleasure,— his  peaceful  realm  he  swayed. 
And  in  the  years  he  reigned,— through  all  this  country  wide, 
There  was  no  cause  for  weeping,— save  when  the  good  man  died. 

The  faithful  men  of  Brentford,— do  slill  iiuir  king  deplore. 
His  portrait  yet  is  swinging,— beside  an  alehouse  door. 
And  topers,  tender-hearted,- regard  his  honest  pliiz, 
And  envy  times  departed,— that  knew  a  reign  like  his. 

101 


LE   GRENIER 

Je  viens  revoir  I'asile  ou  ma  jeunesse 
De  la  misere  a  subi  les  le9ons, 
J'avais  vingt  ans,  une  folle  maitresse, 
De  francs  amis  et  I'amour  des  chansons. 
Bravant  le  monde  et  les  sots  et  les  sages, 
Sans  avenir,  riche  de  mon  printemps, 
Leste  et  joyeux  je  montais  six  etages, 
Dans  un  grenier  qu'on  est  bien  a  vingt  ans ! 

C'est  un  grenier,  point  ne  veux  qu'on  I'ignore. 

La  f ut  mon  lit,  bien  chetif  et  bien  dur ; 

La  fut  ma  table ;  et  je  retrouve  encore 

Trois  pieds  d'un  vers  charbonnes  sur  le  mur. 

Apparaissez,  plaisirs  de  mon  bel  age, 

Que  d'un  coup  d'aile  a  fustiges  le  temps, 

Vingt  fois  pour  vous  j'ai  mis  ma  montre  en  gage. 

Dans  un  grenier  qu'on  est  bien  a  vingt  ans ! 

Lisette  ici  doit  surtout  apparaitre, 

Vive,  jolie,  avec  un  frais  chapeau; 

Deja  sa  main  a  I'etroite  fenetre 

Suspend  son  sclial,  en  guise  de  rideau. 

Sa  robe  aussi  va  parer  ma  couchette ; 

Respecte,  Amour,  ses  plis  longs  et  flottans. 

J'ai  su  depuis  qui  payait  sa  toilette 

Dans  un  grenier  qu'on  est  bien  a  vingt  ans! 

A  table  un  jour,  jour  de  grande  richesse, 
De  mes  amis  les  voix  brillaient  en  chceur, 
Quand  jusqu'ici  monte  un  cri  d'allegresse : 
A  Marengo  Bonaparte  est  vain  queur. 
102 


THE  GARRET  103 

Le  canon  gronde ;  un  autre  chant  commence ; 
Nous  celebrons  tant  de  faits  eclatans. 
Les  rois  jamais  n'envahiront  la  France. 
Dans  un  grcnier  qu'on  est  bien  a  vingt  ans ! 

Quittons  ce  toit  ou  ma  raison  s'enivre. 
Oh!  qu'ils  sont  loin  ces  jours  si  regrettes! 
J'echangerais  ce  qu'il  me  reste  a  vivre 
Centre  un  des  mois  qu'ici  Dicu  m'a  comptes, 
Pour  rever  gloire,  amour,  plaisir,  folic, 
Pour  depenser  sa  vie  en  peu  d'instans, 
D'un  long  espoir  pour  la  voir  embellie, 
Dans  un  grenier  qu'on  est  bien  a  vingt  ans ! 


THE  GARRET 

With  pensive  eyes  the  little  room  I  view, 

Where,  in  my  youth,  I  weathered  it  so  long ; 
With  a  wild  mistress,  a  stanch  friend  or  two. 

And  a  light  heart  still  breaking  into  song: 
Making  a  mock  of  life,  and  all  its  cares, 

Rich  in  the  glory  of  my  rising  sun. 
Lightly  I  vaulted  up  four  pair  of  stairs. 

In  the  brave  days  when  I  was  twenty-one. 

Yes;  'tis  a  garret — let  him  kiiow't  who  will  — 

There  was  my  bed — full  hard  it  was  and  small; 
My  table  there — and  I  decipher  still 

Half  a  lame  couplet  charcoaled  on  the  wall. 
Ye  joys,  that  Time  hath  swept  with  him  away, 

Come  to  mine  eyes,  ye  dreams  of  love  and  fun ; 
For  you  I  pawned  my  watch  how  many  a  day, 

In  the  brave  days  when  I  was  twenty-one. 


104  FOUR  IMITATIONS   OF  BERANGER 

And  see  my  little  Jessy,  first  of  all ; 

She  comes  with  pouting  lips  and  sparkling  eyes : 
Behold,  how  roguishly  she  pins  her  shawl 

Across  the  narrow  casement,  curtain-wise; 
Now  by  the  bed  her  petticoat  glides  down, 

And  when  did  woman  look  the  worse  in  none? 
I  have  heard  since  who  paid  for  many  a  gown, 

In  the  brave  days  when  I  was  twenty-one. 

One  jolly  evening,  when  my  friends  and  I 

Made  happy  music  with  our  songs  and  cheers, 
A  shout  of  triumph  mounted  up  thus  high, 

And  distant  cannon  opened  on  our  ears : 
We  rise, — we  join  in  the  triumphant  strain, — 

Napoleon  conquers — Austerlitz  is  won — 
Tyrants  shall  never  tread  us  down  again, 

In  the  brave  days  when  I  Avas  twenty-one. 

Let  us  begone — the  place  is  sad  and  strange — 

How  far,  far  off,  these  happy  times  appear; 
All  that  I  have  to  live  I'd  gladly  change 

For  one  such  month  as  I  have  wasted  here — 
To  draw  long  dreams  of  beauty,  love,  and  power, 

From  founts  of  hope  that  never  will  outrun. 
And  drink  all  life's  quintessence  in  an  hour. 

Give  me  the  days  when  I  was  twenty-one ! 


ROGER-BONTEMPS 

Aux  gens  atrabilalres 
Pour  exeniple  donne, 
En  un  temps  de  miseres 
Roger-Bontemps  est  ne. 
Vivre  obscur  a  sa  guise, 
Narguer  les  mecontens; 
Eh  gai !   c'est  la  devise 
Du  gros  Roger-Bontemps. 

Du  chapcau  de  son  pere 
Coiffe  dans  Ics  grands  jours, 
De  roses  ou  de  lierre 
Le  rajeunir  toujours; 
Mettre  un  manteau  de  bure, 
Vieil  ami  de  vingt  ans ; 
Eh  gai !   c'est  la  parure 
Du  gros  Roger-Bontemps. 

Posseder  dans  sa  hutte 
Une  table,  un  vieux  lit, 
Des  cartes,  une  flute, 
Un  broc  que  Uieu  remplit; 
Un  portrait  de  maitresse, 
Un  coff re  et  rien  dedans ; 
Eh  gai !    c'est  la  richesse 
Du  gros  Roger-Bontemps. 
10,5 


106  FOUR  IMITATIONS  OF  BERANGER 

Aux  enfans  de  la  ville 
Montrer  de  petits  jeux; 
Etre  fesseur  habile 
De  contes  graveleux ; 
Ne  parler  que  de  danse 
Et  d'almanachs  chantans : 
Eh  gai !   c'est  la  science 
Du  gros  Roger-Bontemps. 

Faute  de  vins  d'elite, 
Sabler  ceux  du  canton: 
Preferer  Marguerite 
Aux  dames  du  grand  ton: 
De  joie  et  de  tendresse 
Remplir  tous  ses  instans: 
Eh  gai !  c'est  la  sagesse 
Du  gros  Roger-Bontemps. 

Dire  au  ciel :  Je  me  fie, 
Mon  pere,  a  ta  bonte ; 
De  ma  philosophie 
Pardonne  le  gaite: 
Que  ma  saison  derniere 
Soit  encore  un  printemps ; 
Eh  gai!  c'est  la  priere 
Du  gros  Roger-Bontemps. 

Vous  pauvres  pleins  d'envie, 
Vous  riches  desireux, 
Vous,  dont  le  char  devie 
Apres  uncours  heureux; 
Vous,  qui  perdrez  peut-etre 
Des  titres  eclatans, 
Eh  gai !  prenez  pour  maitre 
Le  gros  Roger-Bontemps. 


JOLLY  JACK 

When  fierce  political  debate 

Throughout  the  isle  was  storming, 
And  Rads  attacked  the  throne  and  state, 

And  Tories  the  reforming. 
To  calm  the  furious  rage  of  each, 

And  right  the  land  demented, 
Heaven  sent  us  Jolly  Jack,  to  teach 

The  way  to  be  contented. 

Jack's  bed  was  straw,  'twas  warm  and  soft, 

His  chair,  a  three-legged  stool ; 
His  broken  jug  was  emptied  oft. 

Yet,  somehow,  always  full. 
His  mistress'  portrait  decked  the  wall, 

His  mirror  had  a  crack ; 
Yet,  gay  and  glad,  though  this  was  all 

His  wealth,  lived  Jolly  Jack. 

To  give  advice  to  avarice. 

Teach  pride  its  mean  condition. 
And  preach  good  sense  to  dull  j)retcncc. 

Was  honest  Jack's  high  mission. 
Our  simple  statesman  found  his  rule 

Of  moral  in  the  flagon, 
And  held  his  philosophic  school 

Beneath  the  "  George  and  Dragon." 
107 


108  FOUR  IMITATIONS   OF  BERANGER 

When  village  Solons  cursed  the  Lords, 

And  called  the  malt-tax  sinful, 
Jack  heeded  not  their  angry  words. 

But  smiled  and  drank  his  skinful. 
And  when  men  wasted  health  and  life, 

In  search  of  rank  and  riches. 
Jack  marked  aloof  the  paltry  strife. 

And  wore  his  threadbare  breeches. 

"  I  enter  not  the  church,"  he  said, 
"  But  I'll  not  seek  to  rob  it ;  " 
So  worthy  Jack  Joe  Miller  read, 

While  others  studied  Cobbett. 
His  talk  it  was  of  feast  and  fun ; 

His  guide  the  Almanack ; 
From  youth  to  age  thus  gaily  run 

The  life  of  Jolly  Jack. 

And  when  Jack  prayed,  as  oft  he  would, 

He  humbly  thanked  his  Maker; 
"  I  am,"  said  he,  "  O  Father  good ! 

Nor  Catholic  nor  Quaker: 
Give  each  his  creed,  let  each  proclaim 

His  catalogue  of  curses  ; 
I  trust  in  Thee,  and  not  in  them. 

In  Thee,  and  in  Thy  mercies ! 

"  Forgive  me  if,  midst  all  Thy  works, 

No  hint  I  see  of  damning; 
And  think  there's  faith  among  the  Turks, 

And  hope  for  e'en  the  Brahmin. 
Harmless  my  mind  is,  and  my  mirth, 

And  kindly  is  my  laughter; 
I  cannot  see  the  smiling  earth. 

And  think  there's  hell  hereafter." 


JOLLY  JACK  109 

Jack  died ;  he  left  no  legacy, 

Save  that  his  story  teaches : — 
Content  to  peevish  poverty ; 

Humility  to  riches. 
Ye  scornful  great,  ye  envious  small, 

Come  follow  in  his  track  ; 
We  all  were  happier,  if  we  all 

Would  copy  Jolly  Jack. 


IMITATION  OF  HORACE 


TO  HIS   SERVING  BOY 

Persicos  odi, 
Puer,  apparatus; 
Displicent   nexae 
Philyra  coron^e : 
Mitte  sectari, 
Rosa  quo  locorum 
Sera  moretur. 

Simplici  myrto 
Nihil  allabores 
Sedulus,  euro: 
Neque  te  ministrum 
Dedecet  myrtus, 
Neque  me  sub  arcta 
Vite  bibentem. 


no 


AD   MINISTRAM 

Dear  Lucy,  you  know  what  my  wish  is,— 

I  hate  all  your  Frenchified  fuss: 
Your  silly  entrees  and  made  dishes 

Were  never  intended  for  us. 
No  footman  in  lace  and  in  ruffles 

Need  dangle  behind  my  arm-chair; 
And  never  mind  seeking  for  truffles. 

Although  they  be  ever  so  rare. 

But  a  plain  leg  of  mutton,  my  Lucy, 

I  prithee  get  ready  at  three : 
Have  it  smoking,  and  tender  and  juicy. 

And  what  better  meat  can  there  be.? 
And  when  it  has  feasted  the  master, 

'Twill  amply  suffice  for  the  maid ; 
Meanwhile  I  will  smoke  my  canaster, 

And  tipple  my  ale  in  the  shade. 


Ill 


OLD  FRIENDS  WITH  NEW  FACES 


THE  KNIGHTLY  GUERDON' 

Untrue  to  my  Ulric  I  never  could  be, 

I  vow  by  the  saints  and  the  blessed  Marie, 

Since  the  desolate  hour  when  we  stood  by  the  shore. 

And  your  dark  galley  waited  to  carry  you  o'er : 

My  faith  then  I  plighted,  my  love  I  confess'd, 

As  I  gave  you  the  Battle-Axe  marked  with  your  crest ! 

i"WAPPING   OLD  STAIRS 

"  Your  Molly  has  never  been  false,  she  declares, 
Since  the  last  time  we  parted  at  Wapping  Old  Stairs; 
When  I  said  that  I  would  continue  the  same, 
And  gave  you  the  'bacco-box  marked  with  my  name. 
When  I  passed  a  whole  fortnight  between  decks  with  you, 
Did  I  e'er  give  a  kiss,  Tom,  to  one  of  your  crew? 
To  be  useful  and  kind  to  my  Thomas  I  stay'd. 
For  his  trousers  I  washed,  and  his  grog  too  I  made. 

"  Though  you  promised  last  Sunday  to  walk  in  the  Mali 
With  Susan  from  Deptford  and  likewise  with  Sail, 
In  silence  I  stood  your  unkindness  to  hear. 
And  only  upbraided  my  Tom  with  a  tear. 
Why  should  Sail,  or  should  Susan,  than  me  be  more  prized? 
For  the  heart  that  is  true   Tom,  should  ne'er  be  despised; 
Then  be  constant  and  kind,  nor  your  Molly  forsake. 
Still  your  trousers  I'll  wash  and  your  grog  too  I'll  make." 
112 


THE   KNIGHTLY   GUERDON  113 

When  the  bold  barons  met  in  my  father's  old  hall, 
Was  not  Edith  the  flower  of  the  banquet  and  ball? 
In  the  festival  hour,  on  the  lips  of  j-our  bride. 
Was  there  ever  a  smile  save  with  Thee  at  my  side? 
Alone  in  my  turret  I  loved  to  sit  best, 
To  blazon  your  Banner  and  broider  your  crest. 

The  knights  were  assembled,  the  tourney  was  gay ! 
Sir  Ulric  rode  first  in  the  warrior-melee. 
In  the  dire  battle-hour,  when  the  tourney  was  done. 
And  you  gave  to  another  the  wreath  you  had  won ! 
Though  I  never  reproached  thee,  cold,  cold  was  my  breast, 
As  I  thought  of  that  Battle-axe,  ah !  and  that  crest ! 

But  away  with  remembrance,  no  more  will  I  pine 
That  others  usurped  for  a  time  what  was  mine ! 
There's  a  Festival  Hour  for  my  Ulric  and  me: 
Once  more,  as  of  old,  shall  he  bend  at  my  knee ; 
Once  more  by  the  side  of  the  knight  I  love  best 
Shall  I  blazon  his  Banner  and  broider  his  crest. 


THE    ALMACK'S    ADIEU 

Your  Fanny  was  never  false-hearted, 

And  this  she  protests  and  she  vows, 
From  the  triste  moment  when  we  parted 

On  the  staircase  of  Devonshire  House! 
I  blushed  when  you  asked  me  to  marry, 

I  vowed  I  would  never  forget ; 
And  at  parting  I  gave  my  dear  Harry 

A  beautiful  vinegarette! 


114  OLD   FRIENDS   WITH   NEW   FACES 

We  spent  en  'province  all  December, 

And  I  ne'er  condescended  to  look 
At  Sir  Charles,  or  the  rich  county  member, 

Or  even  at  that  darling  old  Duke. 
You  were  busy  with  dogs  and  with  horses. 

Alone  in  my  chamber  I  sat, 
And  made  you  the  nicest  of  purses. 

And  the  smartest  black  satin  cravat ! 

At  night  with  that  vile  Lady  Frances 

{Je  faisois  moi  tapisserie) 
You  danced  every  one  of  the  dances, 

And  never  once  thought  of  poor  me ! 
Mon  pauvre  petit  coeur!   what  a  shiver 

I  felt  as  she  danced  the  last  set ; 
And  you  gave,  O  mon  Dieu !   to  revive  her 

My  beautiful  vinegarette! 

Return,  love !  away  with  coquetting ; 

This  flirting  disgraces  a  man ! 
And  ah !  all  the  while  you're  forgetting 

The  heart  of  your  poor  little  Fan  ! 
ReviensI   break  away  from  those  Circes, 

Reviens,  for  a  nice  little  chat ; 
And  I've  made  you  the  sweetest  of  purses, 

And  a  lovely  black  satin  cravat ! 


WHEN  THE  GLOOM  IS  ON  THE  GLEN 

When  the  moonlight's  on  the  mountain 

And  the  gloom  is  on  the  glen, 
At  the  cross  beside  the  fountain 

There  is  one  will  meet  thee  then. 
At  the  cross  beside  the  fountain; 

Yes,  the  cross  beside  the  fountain, 
There  is  one  will  meet  thee  then ! 

I  have  braved,  since  first  we  met,  love, 

Many  a  danger  in  my  course; 
But  I  never  can  forget,  love. 

That  dear  fountain,  that  old  cross. 
Where,  her  mantle  shrouded  o'er  her — 

For  the  winds  were  chilly  then — 
First  I  met  my  Leonora, 

When  the  gloom  was  on  the  glen. 

Many  a  clime  I've  ranged  since  then,  love, 

Many  a  land  I've  wandered  o'er ; 
But  a  valley  like  that  glen,  love, 

Half  so  dear  I  never  sor ! 
Ne'er  saw  maiden  fairer,  coyer. 

Than  wert  thou,  my  true  love,  when 
In  the  gloaming  first  I  saw  ycr. 

In  the  gloaming  of  the  glen! 
115 


THE  RED   FLAG 

Where  the  quivering  lightning  flings 

His  arrows  from  out  the  clouds, 
And  the  howling  tempest  sings 

And  whistles  among  the  shrouds, 
'Tis  pleasant,  'tis  pleasant  to  ride 

Along  the  foaming  brine — 
Wilt  be  the  Rover's  bride  ? 

Wilt  follow  him,  lady  mine? 
Hurrah ! 
For  the  bonny,  bonny  brine. 

Amidst  the  storm  and  rack. 

You  shall  see  our  galley  pass. 
As  a  serpent,  lithe  and  black, 

GHdes  through  the  waving  grass. 
As  the  vulture  swift  and  dark, 

Down  on  the  ring-dove  flies. 
You  shall  see  the  Rover's  bark 

Swoop  down  upon  his  prize. 
Hurrah ! 
For  the  bonny,  bonny  prize. 

Over  her  sides  we  dash. 

We  gallop  across  her  deck — 
Ha !  there's  a  ghastly  gash 

On  the  merchant-captain's  neck — 
Well  shot,  well  shot,  old  Ned ! 

Well  struck,  well  struck,  black  James! 
Our  arms  are  red,  and  our  foes  are  dead, 

And  we  leave  a  ship  in  flames ! 
Hurrah ! 
For  the  bonny,  bonny  flames. 

116 


DEAR   JACK 

Dear  Jack,  this  white  mug  that  with  Guinness  I  fill, 
And  drink  to  the  health  of  sweet  Nan  of  the  Hill, 
Was  once  Tommy  Tosspot's,  as  jovial  a  sot 
As  e'er  drew  a  spigot,  or  drain'd  a  full  pot — 
In  drinking  all  round  'twas  his  joy  to  surpass. 
And  with  all  merry  tipplers  he  swigg'd  off  his  glass. 

One  morning  in  summer,  while  seated  so  snug. 
In  the  porch  of  his  garden,  discussing  his  jug, 
Stern  Death,  on  a  sudden,  to  Tom  did  appear. 
And  said,  "  Honest  Thomas,  come  take  your  last  bier.' 
We  kneaded  his  clay  in  the  shape  of  this  can, 
From  which  let  us  drink  to  the  health  of  my  Nan. 


IIT 


COMMANDERS    OF    THE    FAITHFUL 

The  Pope  he  is  a  happy  man, 

His  Palace  is  the  Vatican, 

And  there  he  sits  and  drains  his  can: 

The  Pope  he  is  a  happy  man. 

I  often  say  when  I'm  at  home, 

I'd  like  to  be  the  Pope  of  Rome. 

And  then  there's  Sultan  Saladin, 
That  Turkish  Soldan  full  of  sin; 
He  has  a  hundred  wives  at  least, 
By  which  his  pleasure  is  increased: 
I've  often  wished,  I  hope  no  sin, 
That  I  were  Sultan  Saladin. 

But  no,  the  Pope  no  wife  may  choose, 
And  so  I  would  not  wear  his  shoes ; 
No  wine  may  drink  the  proud  Paynim, 
And  so  I'd  rather  not  be  him : 
My  wife,  my  wine,  I  love,  I  hope. 
And  would  be  neither  Turk  nor  Pope. 


118 


WHEN  MOONLIKE  ORE  THE  HAZURE 

SEAS 

When  moonlike  ore  the  hazure  seas 

In  soft  effulgence  swells, 
When  silver  jews  and  balmy  breaze 

Bend  down  the  Lily's  bells; 
When  calm  and  deap,  the  rosy  sleap 

Has  lapt  your  soal  in  dreems, 
R  Hangeline !    R  lady  mine ! 

Dost  thou  remember  Jeames? 

I  mark  thee  in  the  Marble  All, 

Where  England's  loveliest  shine — 
I  say  the  fairest  of  them  hall 

Is  Lady  Hangeline. 
My  soul,  in  desolate  eclipse, 

With  recollection  teems — 
And  then  I  hask,  with  weeping  lips, 

Dost  thou  remember  Jeames? 

Away !   I  may  not  tell  thee  hall 

This  soughring  heart  endures — 
There  is  a  lonely  sperrit-call 

That  Sorrow  never  cures ; 
There  is  a  little,  little  Star, 

That  still  above  me  beams ; 
It  is  the  Star  of  Hope— but  ar! 

Dost  thou  remember  Jeames? 
119 


THE 
LEGEND  OF  ST.  SOPHIA  OF  KIOFF 


AN   EPIC    POEM,   IN   TWENTY   BOOKS 


The  Poet 
describes  the 
city  and  spell- 
ing ot  Kiow, 
Kioff,  or  Kiova. 


A  THOUSAND  years  ago,  or  more, 

A  city  filled  with  burghers  stout, 

And  girt  with  ramparts  round  about, 
Stood  on  the  rocky  Dnieper  shore. 
In  armour  bright,  by  day  and  night, 

The  sentries  they  paced  to  and  fro. 
Well  guarded  and  walled  was  this  town,  and  called 

By  different  names,  I'd  have  you  to  know ; 
For  if  you  looks  in  the  g'ography  books. 
In  those  dictionaries  the  name  it  varies, 
And  they  write  it  off  Kieff  or  Kioff, 

Kiova  or  Kiow. 


Its  buildings, 
public  works, 
and  ordinances, 
religious  and 
civil. 


Thus  guarded  without  by  wall  and  redoubt, 

Kiova  within  was  a  place  of  renown. 
With  more  advantages  than  in  those  dark  ages 
Were  commonly  known  to  belong  to  a  town. 
There  were  places  and  squares,  and  each  year  four 

fairs, 
And  regular  aldermen  and  regular  lord  mayors ; 
And  streets,  and  alleys,  and  a  bishop's  palace ; 
120 


THE  GREAT  COSSACK  EPIC        121 


And  a  church  with  clocks  for  the  orthodox — 
With  clocks  and  with  spires,  as  religion  desires; 
And  beadles  to  whip  the  bad  little  boys 
Over  their  poor  little  corduroys, 
In  service-time,  when  they  didn't  make  a  noise; 
And  a  chapter  and  dean,  and  a  cathedral-green 
With  ancient  trees,  underneath  whose  shades 
Wandered  nice  young  nursery-maids. 
Ding-dong,  ding-dong,  ding-ding-a-ring-ding, 
The  bells  they  made  a  merry  merry  ring. 
From  the  tall  tall  steeple ;  and  all  the  people 
(Except  the  Jews)  came  and  filled  the  pews — 

Poles,  Russians  and  Germans, 

To  hear  the  sermons 
Which  Hyacinth  preached  to  those  Germans  and 
Poles, 

For  the  safety  of  their  souls. 


The  poet  shows 
how  a  certain 
priest  dwelt  at 
KiofT,  a  godly 
clergyman,  and 
one  that 
preached  rare 
good  sermons. 


Ill 

A  worthy  priest  he  was  and  a  stout — 
You've  seldom  looked  on  such  a  one ; 

For,  though  he  fasted  thrice  in  a  week, 

Yet  nevertheless  his  skin  was  sleek ; 

His  waist  it  spanned  two  yards  about 
And  he  weighed  a  score  of  stone. 


How  this  priest 
was  short  and 
fat  of  body; 


IV 

A  worthy  priest  for  fasting  and  prayer 

And  mortification  most  deserving; 

And  as  for  preaching  beyond  compare. 

He'd  exert  his  powers  for  three  or  four  hours, 

With  greater  pith  than  Sydney  Smith 

Or  the  Reverend  Edward  Irving. 


And  like  unto 
the  author  of 
"  Plymley's 
Letters." 


122 


THE  GREAT  COSSACK  EPIC 


Of  what  con-      He  was  the  prior  of  Saint  Sophia 

prior,  and  when    (A  Cockney  rhyme,  but  no  better  I  know)  — 

was'buiit."         (^f  St.  Sophia,  that  Church  in  Kiow, 

Built  by  missionaries  I  can't  tell  when ; 
Who  by  their  discussions  converted  the  Russians, 

And  made  them  Christian  men. 


Of  Saint  Sophia 
of  Kioff;and 
how  her  statue 
miraculously 
travelled 
thither. 


VI 

Sainted  Sophia  (so  the  legend  vows) 
With  special  favour  did  regard  this  house; 
And  to  uphold  her  converts'  new  devotion 
Her  statue  (needing  but  her  legs  for  her  ship) 
Walks  of  itself  across  the  German  Ocean ; 
And  of  a  sudden  perches 
In  this  the  best  of  churches, 
Whither  all  Kiovites  come  and  pay  it  grateful  wor- 
ship. 


VII 

And  how  Kioff    Thus  with  her  patron-saints  and  pious  preachers 

should  have  i     i  i  •  ,     i 

been  a  happy  Recorded  here  in  catalogue  precise, 

city;  but  that     ^  goodly  city.  Worthy  magistrates, 

You  would  have  thought  in  all  the  Russian  states 
The  citizens  the  happiest  of  all  creatures, — 
The  town  itself  a  perfect  Paradise. 


VIII 


Certain  wicked 
Cossacks  did 
besiege  it. 


No,  alas!  this  well-built  city 
Was  in  a  perpetual  fidget; 

For  the  Tartars,  without  pity. 
Did  remorselessly  besiege  it. 


THE    GREAT    COSSACK    EPIC         123 

Tartars  fierce,  with  sword  and  sabres, 

Huns  and  Turks,  and  such  as  these, 
Envied  much  their  peaceful  neighbours 

Bj  the  blue  Borysthenes. 


Down  they  came,  these  ruthless  Russians, 
From  their  steppes,  and  woods,  and  fens, 

For  to  levy  contributions 
On  the  peaceful  citizens. 


Murdering  the 
citizens, 


Winter,  Summer,  Spring,  and  Autumn, 
Down  they  came  to  peaceful  Kioff , 

Killed  the  burghers  when  they  caught  'em, 
If  their  lives  they  would  not  buy  off. 


Till  the  city,  quite  confounded 
By  the  ravages  they  made. 

Humbly  with  their  chief  compounded 
And  a  yearly  tribute  paid. 


Until  they 
agreed  to  pay  a 
tribute  yearly. 


Which  (because  their  courage  lax  was) 
They  discharged  while  they  were  able 

Tolerated  thus  the  tax  was. 
Till  it  grew  intolerable, 


How  they  paid 
the  tribute,  and 
then  suddenly 
refused  it. 


And  the  Calmuc  envoy  sent. 

As  before  to  take  their  dues  all, 

Got,  to  his  astonishment, 
A  unanimous  refusal ! 


To  the  wonder 
of  the  Cossack 
envoy. 


"  Men  of  Kioff !  "  thus  courageous 

Did  the  stout  lord-mayor  harangue  them, 

"  Wherefore  pay  these  sneaking  wages 

To  the  hectoring  Russians?  hang  them! 


Ofa  mighty  gal- 
lant speech 


124        THE    GREAT    COSSACK   EPIC 

That  the  lord-        "  Hark  !   I  hear  the  awful  cry  of 

mayor  made,  „  -        ^    , ,  •       .  i     • 

Our  forefathers  in  their  graves; 
"  '  Fight,  ye  citizens  of  KiofF ! 

KiofF  was  not  made  for  slaves.' 


Exhorting  the         "  All  too  long  havc  ye  betrayed  her ; 

burghers  to  pay  i      ij 

no  longer.  Rouse,  ye  men  and  aldermen, 


Send  the  insolent  invader — 
Send  him  starving  back  again. 


DC 

Of  their  thanks   He  spoke  and  he  sat  down;  the  people  of  the  town, 

and  heroic  /i       i       •  i  i  i    i- 

resolves.  Who  Were  nred  with  a  brave  emulation. 

Now  rose  with  one  accord,  and  voted  thanks  unto 
the  lord- 
Mayor  for  his  oration: 

Theydismissthe  The  cnvoy  they  dismissed,  never  placing  in  his  fist 

envoy,  and  set  •        i       i  'ii* 

about  drilling.  So  much  as  a  Single  shilling; 

And  all  with  courage  fired,  as  his  lordship  he  desired, 
At  once  set  about  their  drilling. 

Of  the  City         Then  every  city  ward  established  a  guard, 

guard:  viz.  -r-v  i  i 

militia,  Diumal  and  nocturnal: 

bomta"diers.       Militia  volunteers,  light  dragoons,  and  bombardiers, 

maliiers''*"""  With  an  alderman  for  colonel. 

There  was  muster  and  roll-calls,  and  repairing  city 
walls. 
And  filling  up  of  fosses : 
^nd^^caSin"      And  the  Captains  and  the  majors,  so  gallant  and 
courageous, 
A-riding  about  on  their  bosses. 


THE    GREAT    COSSACK  EPIC         125 

To  be  guarded  at  all  hours  they  built  themselves   The  fortifica- 
tions and 
watch-towers,  artillery. 

With  every  tower  a  man  on ; 

And  surely  and  secure,  each  from  out  his  embrasure, 

Looked  down  the  iron  cannon ! 

A  battle-song  was  writ  for  the  theatre,  where  it 

Was  sung  with  vast  energy 
And   rapturous   applause ;   and   besides,   the   public   Of  the  conduct 

^  ^^  'X-  of  the  actors 

cause,  and  the  clergy. 

Was  supported  by  the  clergy. 

The  pretty  ladies'-maids  were  pinning  of  cockades, 

And  tying  on  of  sashes ; 
And  dropping  gentle  tears,  while  their  lovers  blus- 
ter'd  fierce, 

About  gun-shot  and  gashes; 

The  ladies  took  the  hint,  and  all  day  were  scraping   Of  the  ladies; 
lint, 
As  became  their  softer  genders; 
And  got  bandages  and  beds  for  the  limbs  and  for 
the  heads 
Of  the  city's  brave  defenders. 

The  men,  both  young   and  old,   felt   resolute   and 
bold, 
And  panted  hot  for  glory; 
Even  the  tailors  'gan  to  brag,  and  embroidered  on        And,  finally,  of 

^  *=  the  taylors. 

their  flag, 

"  AUT   WINCERE   AUT    MOEI." 
X 

Seeine  the  city's  resolute  condition.  Of  the  Cossack 

o  ^  ^        ^  chief,— his 

The  Cossack  chief,  too  cunning  to  despise  it,  straUgem; 

Said  to  himself,  "  Not  having  ammunition 


126         THE    GREAT    COSSACK   EPIC 

Wherewith  to  batter  the  place  in  proper  form, 
Some  of  these  nights  I'll  carry  it  by  storm, 
And  sudden  escalade  it  or  surprise  it. 


And  the  bur- 
ghers' sillie 
victorie. 


"  Let's  see,  however,  if  the  cits  stand  firmish," 
He  rode  up  to  the  city  gates ;  for  answers. 
Out  rushed  an  eager  troop  of  the  town  elite. 
And  straightway  did  begin  a  gallant  skirmish : 
The  Cossack  hereupon  did  sound  retreat. 
Leaving  the  victory  with  the  city  lancers. 


"What  prison- 
ers they  took. 


They  took  two  prisoners  and  as  many  horses. 
And  the  whole  town  grew  quickly  so  elate 
With  this  small  victory  of  their  virgin  forces. 
That  they  did  deem  their  privates  and  commanders 
So  many  Caesars,  Pompeys,  Alexanders, 
Napoleons,  or  Fredericks  the  Great. 


And  how  con- 
ceited they 
were. 


And  puffing  with  inordinate  conceit 

They  utterly  despised  these  Cossack  thieves ; 

And  thought  the  ruffians  easier  to  beat 

Than  porters  carpets  think,  or  ushers  boys. 

Meanwhile,  a  sly  spectator  of  their  joys, 
The  Cossack  captain  giggled  in  his  sleeves. 


Of  the  Cos-       «  Whene'er  you  meet  yon  stupid  city  hogs  " 

sack  chief,— his  •        ,  i  • "        j       i  \ 

orders;  (He  bade  his  troops  precise  this  order  keep), 

"  Don't  stand  a  moment— run  away,  you  dogs !  " 
'Twas  done ;  and  when  they  met  the  town  battalions 
The  Cossacks,  as  if  frightened  at  their  valiance. 
Turned  tail,  and  bolted  like  so  many  sheep. 


And  how  he 
feigned  a 
retreat. 


They  fled,  obedient  to  their  captain's  order : 

And  now  this  bloodless  siege  a  month  had  lasted. 
When,  viewing  the  country  round,  the  city  warder 


THE    GREAT   COSSACK   EPIC         127 

Who,  like  a  faithful  weathercock,  did  perch 
Upon  the  steeple  of  St.  Sophy's  church), 

Sudden  his  trumpet  took,  and  a  mighty  blast  he 
blasted. 

His  voice  it  mie;ht  be  heard  through  all  the  streets        '^}^^  warder  pro- 

*=•  ^  clayms  the  Cos- 

(He  was  a  warder  wondrous  strong:  in  lune;),  sacks' retreat, 

"  Victory,  victory  !    the  foe  retreats  !  "  greatly  rejoyces. 

"  The  foe  retreats !  "  each  cries  to  each  he  meets ; 
"  The  foe  retreats !  "  each  in  his  turn  repeats. 

Gods!  how  the  guns  did  roar,  and  how  the  joy -bells 
rung! 

Arming  in  haste  his  gallant  city  lances. 

The  mayor,  to  learn  if  true  the  news  might  be, 
A  league  or  two  out  issued  with  his  prances. 

The  Cossacks  (something  had  given  their  courage  a 
damper) 
Hastened  their  flight,  and  'gan  like  mad  to  scamper: 

Blessed  be  all  the  saints,  Kiova  town  was  free ! 


XI 

Now,  puffed  with  pride,  the  mayor  grew  vain, 

Fought  all  his  battles  o'er  again ; 

And  thrice  he  routed  all  his  foes,  and  thrice  he  slew 

the  slain. 
'Tis  true  he  might  amuse  himself  thus. 
And  not  be  very  murderous  ; 
For  as  of  those  who  to  death  were  done 
The  number  was  exactly  none. 
His  lordship,  in  his  soul's  elation. 
Did  take  a  bloodless  recreation — 
Going  home  again,  he  did  ordain  The  manner  of 

the  citie's  rc- 

A  very  splendid  cold  collation  joyeings, 

For  the  magistrates  and  the  corporation ; 


128 


THE  GREAT  COSSACK  EPIC 


Likewise  a  grand  illumination, 
For  the  amusement  of  the  nation. 
That  night  the  theatres  were  free, 
The  conduits  they  ran  Malvoisie; 
Each  house  that  night  did  beam  with  light 
And  sound  with  mirth  and  jollity: 
And  its  impiety.  But  shame,  O  shame!  not  a  soul  in  the  town, 

Now  the  city  was  safe  and  the  Cossacks  flown. 
Ever  thought  of  the  bountiful  saint  by  whose  care 

The  town  had  been  rid  of  these  terrible  Turks — 
Said  even  a  prayer  to  that  patroness  fair. 

For  these  her  wondrous  works ! 
Lord  Hyacinth  waited,  the  meekest  of  priors — 
He  waited  at  church  with  the  rest  of  his  friars; 
He  went  there  at  noon  and  he  waited  till  ten. 
Expecting  in  vain  the  lord-mayor  and  his  men. 

He  waited  and  waited  from  mid-day  to  dark ; 
But  in  vain — you  might  search  through  the  whole 

of  the  church. 
Not  a  layman,  alas !  to  the  city's  disgrace. 
From  mid-day  to  dark  showed  his  nose  in  the  place. 

The  pew-woman,  organist,  beadle,  and  clerk. 
Kept  away  from  their  work,  and  were  dancing  like 

mad 
Away  in  the  streets  with  the  other  mad  people. 
Not  thinking  to  pray,  but  to  guzzle  and  tipple 

Wherever  the  drink  might  be  had. 


How  the  priest, 
Hyacinth, 
waited  at 
church,  and  no 
body  came 
thither. 


xn 

How  he  went      Amidst  this  din  and  revelry  throughout  the  city 

forth  to  bid  .  ^  o  j 

them  to  prayer  roarmg, 

The  silver  moon  rose  silently,  and  high  in  heaven 
soaring ; 

Prior  Hyacinth  was  fervently  upon  his  knees  ador- 
ing: 


THE  GREAT  COSSACK  EPIC  129 

"  Towards  my  precious  patroness  this  conduct  sure 
unfair  is ; 

I  cannot  think,  I  must  confess,  what  keeps  the  dig- 
nitaries 

And  our  good  mayor  away,  unless  some  business 
them  contraries." 

He  puts  his  long  white  mantle  on  and  forth  the 

prior  sallies  — 
(His  pious   thoughts  were  bent   upon   good   deeds 

and  not  on  malice )  : 
Heavens !  how  the  banquet  lights  they  shone  about 

the  mayor's  palace ! 
About  the  hall  the  scullions  ran  with  meats  both  How  the  grooms 

-       ,  -  and  lackeys 

fresh  and  potted  ;  jeered  him. 

The  pages  came  with  cup  and  can,  all  for  the  guests 

allotted ; 
Ah,  how  they  jeered  that  good  fat  man  as  up  the 

stairs  he  trotted ! 

He  entered  in  the  ante-rooms  where  sat  the  mayor's 
court  in ; 

He  found  a  pack  of  drunken  grooms  a-dicing  and 
a-sporting ; 

The  horrid  wine  and  'bacco  fumes,  they  set  the 
prior  a-snorting ! 

The  prior  thought  he'd  speak  about  their  sins  be- 
fore he  went  hence, 

And  lustily  began  to  shout  of  sin  and  of  repentance ; 

The  rogues,  they  kicked  the  prior  out  before  he'd 
done  a  sentence ! 

And  having  got  no  portion  small  of  buffeting  and 

tussling. 
At  last  he  reached  the  banquet-hall,  where  sat  the 

mayor  a-guzzling, 


130  THE  GREAT   COSSACK  EPIC 

And  by  his  side  his  lady  tall  dressed  out  in  white 

sprig  muslin. 

And  the  mayor.    Around  the  table  in  a  ring  the  guests  were  drink- 
mayoress,  and  .         , 
aldermen, being                 mg   heavy  ; 

iL'go'tochurth.    They'd  drunk  the  church,  and  drunk  the  king,  and 
the  army  and  the  navy ; 
In  fact  they'd  toasted  everything.     The  prior  said, 
"  God  save  ye !  " 


The  mayor  cried,  "  Bring  a  silver  cup — there's  one 
upon  the  beaufet ; 

And,  prior,  have  the  venison  up — it's  capital  re- 
chauffe. 

And  so.  Sir  Priest,  you've  come  to  sup.''  And  pray 
you,  how's  Saint   Sophy  ?  " 

The  prior's  face  quite  red  was  grown,  with  horror 
and  with  anger ; 

He  flung  the  proffered  goblet  down — it  made  a 
hideous  clangour; 

And  'gan  a-preaching  with  a  frown — he  was  a 
fierce  haranguer. 


He  tried  the  mayor  and  aldermen — they  all  set  up 

a-jeering: 
He  tried  the  common-councilmen — they  too  began 

a-sneering : 
He  turned  towards  the  may'ress  then,  and  hoped  to 

get  a  hearing. 
He  knelt  and  seized  her  dinner-dress,  made  of  the 

muslin  snowy, 
To    church,  to    church,  my    sweet    mistress ! "     he 

cried ;  "  the  way  I'll  show  ye." 
Alas,  the  lady-mayoress  fell  back  as  drunk  as  Chloe ! 


THE  GREAT  COSSACK  EPIC  131 

XIII 

Out  from  this  dissolute  and  drunken  court  How  the  prior 

went  back 

Went  the  good  prior,  his  eyes  with  weeping  dim :    alone, 
He  tried  the  people  of  a  meaner  sort — 
They  too,  alas,  were  bent  upon  their  sport, 

And  not  a  single  soul  would  follow  him ! 
But  all  were  swigging  schnaps  and  guzzling  beer. 

He  found  the  cits,  their  daughters,  sons,  and  spouses, 
Spending  the  live-long  night  in  fierce  carouses: 

Alas,  unthinking  of  the  danger  near ! 
One  or  two  sentinels  the  ramparts  guarded, 

The  rest  were  sharing  in  the  general  feast: 
"  God  wot,  our  tipsy  town  is  poorly  warded; 

Sweet  Saint  Sophia  help  us !  "  cried  the  priest. 

Alone  he  entered  the  cathedral  gate, 

Careful  he  locked  the  mighty  oaken  door; 
Within  his  company  of  monks  did  wait, 

A  dozen  poor  old  pious  men  —  no  more. 

Oh,  but  it  grieved  the  gentle  prior  sore, 
To  think  of  those  lost  souls,  given  up  to  drink  and  fate ! 

The  mishtv  outer  gate  well  barred  and  fast,  And  shut  him- 

<^      '  "  _  self  into  Saint 

The  poor  old  friars  stirred  their  poor  old  bones,         Sophia's  ciiapei 

•  n  1  11  iJi.  with  his 

And  pattering  swiftly  on  the  damp  cold  stones,      brethren. 
They  through  the  solitary  chancel  passed. 
The  chancel  walls  looked  black  and  dim  and  vast. 

And  rendered,  ghost-like,  melancholy  tones. 

Onward  the  fathers  sped,  till  coming  nigh  a 

Small  iron  gate,  the  which  they  entered  quick  at, 
They  locked  and  double-locked  the  inner  wicket 

And  stood  within  the  chapel  of  Sophia. 


132  THE  GREAT  COSSACK  EPIC 

Vain  were  it  to  describe  this  sainted  place, 
Vain  to  describe  that  celebrated  trophy, 
The  venerable  statue  of  Saint  Sophy, 

Which  formed  its  chiefest  ornament  and  grace. 

Here  the  good  prior,  his  personal  griefs  and  sorrows 
In  his  extreme  devotion  quickly  merging. 

At  once  began  to  pray  with  voice  sonorous ; 

The  other  friars  joined  in  pious  chorus, 

And  passed  the  night  in  singing,  praying,  scourg- 

In  honour  of  Sophia,  that  sweet  virgin. 


XIV 

The  episode  of      Leaving  thus  the  pious  priest  in 

Sneezoffand  tt        i  i 

Katinka.  Humble  penitence  and  prayer. 

And  the  greedy  cits  a-feasting. 
Let  us  to  the  walls  repair. 


Walking  by  the  sentry-boxes. 
Underneath  the  silver  moon, 

Lo!    the  sentry  boldly  cocks  his — 
Boldly  cocks  his  musketoon. 

SneezofF  was  his  designation. 

Fair-haired  boy,  for  ever  pitied; 

For  to  take  his  cruel  station, 
He  but  now  Katinka  quitted. 

Poor  in  purse  were  both,  but  rich  in 
Tender  love's  delicious  plenties; 

She  a  damsel  of  the  kitchen, 
He  a  haberdasher's  'prentice. 


THE  GREAT  COSSACK  EPIC  133 

'Tinka,  maiden  tender-hearted, 

Was  dissolved  in  tearful  fits, 
On  that  fatal  night  she  parted 

From  her  darling,  fair-haired  Fritz. 

Warm  her  soldier  lad  she  wrapt  in 

Comforter  and  muffettee ; 
Called  him  "  general  "  and  "  captain," 

Though  a  simple  private  he. 

"  On  your  bosom  wear  this  plaster, 
'Twill  defend  you  from  the  cold; 
In  your  pipe  smoke  this  canaster, 
Smuggled  'tis,  my  love,  and  old. 

*'  All  the  night,  my  love,  I'll  miss  you." 
Thus  she  spoke ;  and  from  the  door 
Fair-haired  Sneezoff  made  his  issue. 
To  return,  alas,  no  more. 

He  it  is  who  calmly  walks  his 

Walk  beneath  the  silver  moen ; 
He  it  is  who  boldly  cocks  his 

Detonating  musketoon. 

He  the  bland  canaster  puffing, 

As  upon  his  round  he  paces. 
Sudden  sees  a  raganmffin 

Clambering  swiftly  up  the  glacis. 

*'  Who  goes  there?  "  exclaims  the  sentry; 
"  When  the  sun  has  once  gone  down 
No  one  ever  makes  an  entry 
Into  this  here  fortified  town !  " 


184         THE  GREAT  COSSACK  EPIC 

Howtiiesentrie  Shouted  thus  the  watcliful  Siieezoff ; 

Sncczotf  was  t     i 

surprised  and  But,  ere  any  one  replied, 

Wretched  youth !   he  fired  his  piece  off, 
Started,  staggered,  groaned,  and  died! 


XV 

How  the  Cos-      Ah,  full  Well  might  the  sentinel  cry,  "Who  goes  there?" 
suckieniyaiui      But  ccho  was  frightened  too  much  to  declare. 

Who  goes  there?    who  goes  there?     Can  any  one  swear 

To  the  number  of  sands  su7-  les  hords  de  la  mer. 

Or  the  whiskers  of  D'Orsa}^  Count  down  to  a  hair? 

As  well  might  you  tell  of  the  sands  the  amount, 

Or  number  each  hair  in  each  curl  of  the  Count, 

As  ever  proclaim  the  number  and  name 

Of  the  hundreds  and  thousands  that  up  the  wall  came ! 

Down,  down  the  knaves  poured  with  fire  and  with  sword; 


took  the  citie. 


Of  the  Cossack  There  were  thieves  from  the  Danube  and  rogues 

troops, 

from  the  Don ; 
There  were  Turks  and  Wallacks,  and  shouting  Cossacks; 
Of  all  nations  and  regions,  and  tongues  and  religions — 
Jew,  Christian,  Idolater,  Frank,  Mussulman: 
Ah,  a  horrible  sight  was  Kioff  that  night ! 
And  of  their       The  gates  Were  all  taken  —  no  chance  e'en  of  flight; 

manner  of  a       i       •   i 

burning,  mur-     And  With  torch  and  With  axe  the  bloody  Cossacks 
ravishing.  Went  hither  and  thither  a-hunting  in  packs : 

They  slashed  and  they  slew  both  Christian  and  Jew — 
Women  and  children,  they  slaughtered  them  too. 
Some,  saving  their  throats,  plunged  into  the  moats, 
Or  the  river — but  oh,  they  had  burned  all  the  boats ! 
****** 


Flow  they  But  here  let  us  pause— for  I  can't  pursue  further 

burned  the  .  ^  _  ^ 

whole  citie         This  scene  of  rack,  ravishment,  iniin,  and  murther 

down,  save  the    _^  n    j*j      i 

church,  ioo  Well  did  the  cunning  old  Cossack  succeed! 

His  plan  of  attack  was  successful  indeed ! 


THE  GREAT  COSSACK  EPIC 


135 


bells  began  to 
ring. 


The  night  was  his  own — the  town  it  was  gone; 

'Twas  a  heap  still  a-burning  of  timber  and  stone. 

One  building  alone  had  escaped  from  the  fires, 

Saint  Sophy's  fair  church,  with  its  steeples  and  spires.  Whereof  the 

Calm,  stately,  and  white, 

It  stood  in  the  light ; 
And  as  if  'twould  defy  all  the  conqueror's  power, — 

As  if  nought  had  occurred, 

Might  clearly  be  heard 
The  chimes  ringing  soberly  every  half-hour ! 


XVI 

The  city  was  defunct— silence  succeeded 

Unto  its  last  fierce  agonising  yells ; 
And  then  it  was  the  conqueror  first  heeded 

The  sound  of  these  calm  bells. 
Furious  towards  his  aides-de-camp  he  turns, 

And  (speaking  as  if  Byron's  Avorks  he  knew) 
"  Villains !  "  he  fiercely  cries,  "  the  city  burns. 

Why  not  the  temple  too.'* 
Burn  me  yon  church,  and  murder  all  within !  " 

The  Cossacks  thundered  at  the  outer  door ; 
And  Father  Hyacinth,  who  heard  the  din, 
(And  thought  himself  and  brethren  in  distress, 
Deserted  by  their  lady  patroness) 

Did  to  her  statue  turn,  and  thus  his  woes  outpour. 


How  the  Cos- 
sack chief  bade 
them  burn  the 
church  too. 


How  they 
stormed  it ; 
and  of 

Hyacinth,  his 
anger  thereat. 


"  And  is  it  thus,  O  falsest  of  the  saints. 
Thou  hearcst  our  complaints  .^ 

Tell  mo,  did  ever  my  attachment  falter 
To  serve  thy  altar.'* 

Was  not  thy  name,  ere  ever  I  did  sleep, 
The  last  upon  my  li]).'* 


His  prayer  to 
the  Saint 
Sophia. 


136         THE   GREAT   COSSACK   EPIC 

Was  not  thy  name  the  very  first  that  broke 

From  me  when  I  awoke? 
Have  I  not  tried  with  fasting,  flogging,  penance, 

And  mortified  countenance 
For  to  find  favour,  Sophy,  in  thy  sight? 

And  lo !   this  night. 
Forgetful  of  my  prayers,  and  thine  own  promise, 

Thou  turnest  from  us ; 
Lettest  the  heathen  enter  in  our  city, 

And,  without  pitj'. 
Murder  our  burghers,  seize  upon  their  spouses, 

Bum  down  their  houses ! 
Is  such  a  breach  of  faith  to  be  endured? 

See  what  a  lurid 
Light  from  the  insolent  invader's  torches 

Shines  on  your  porches ! 
E'en  now,  with  thundering  battering-ram  and  hammer 

And  hideous  clamour ; 
With  axemen,  swordsmen,  pikemen,  billmen,  bowmen, 

The  conquering  foemen, 
O  Sophy !  beat  j'our  gate  about  your  ears, 

Alas !  and  here's 
A  humble  company'  of  pious  men. 

Like  muttons  in  a  pen, 
Whose  souls  shall  quickh'  from  their  bodies  be  thrusted. 

Because  in  you  they  trusted. 
Do  you  not  know  the  Calmuc  chief's  desires — 

Kill  all  the  friars  ! 
And  you,  of  all  the  saints  most  false  and  fickle, 

Leave  us  in  this  abominable  pickle." 


The  statue  sud-      "  RaSH  HyACINTHUS  !  " 
denlie  sijeaks; 

(Here,  to  the  astonishment  of  all  her  backers. 
Saint  Sophy,  opening  wide  her  wooden  jaws. 
Like  to  a  pair  of  German  Avalnut-crackers, 


THE  GREAT  COSSACK  EPIC         137 

Began),  "  I  did  not  think  you  had  been  thus,— 

0  monk  of  little  faith !     Is  it  because 
A  rascal  scum  of  filthy  Cossack  heathen 
Besiege  our  town,  that  you  distrust  in  me,  then? 
Think'st  thou  that  I,  who  in  a  former  day 

Did  walk  across  the  Sea  of  Marmora 
(Not  mentioning,  for  shortness,  other  seas), — 
That  I,  who  skimmed  the  broad  Borysthenes, 
Without  so  much  as  wetting  of  my  toes. 
Am  frightened  at  a  set  of  men  like  those? 

1  haye  a  mind  to  leaye  you  to  your  fate : 
Such  cowardice  as  this  my  scorn  inspires." 

Saint  Sophy  was  here  ^"Vl'^^^I; 

^    •-  rupted  by  the 

Cut  short  in  her  words, —  breaking  in  of 

For  at  this  yery  moment  in  tumbled  the  gate. 

And  with  a  wild  cheer. 
And  a  clashing  of  swords. 

Swift  through  the  church  porches, 

With  a  waying  of  torches, 

And  a  shriek  and  a  yell 

Like  the  deyils  of  hell. 

With  pike  and  with  axe 

In  rushed  the  Cossacks, — 
In  rushed  the  Cossacks,  crying,  "  ]\Iurder  the 

FRIARS  !  " 

Ah!   what  a  tlu-ni  fdt  Hyacinth,  or  Hyacinth, 

his  outnifreous 

When  he  heard  that  yillanous  shout  Calmuc  !         address  -, 
Now,  thought  he,  my  trial  beginneth ; 

Saints,  O  giye  me  courage  and  pluck ! 
"  Courage,  boys,  'tis  useless  to  funk  !  " 

Thus  unto  the  friars  he  began  : 
"  Never  let  it  be  said  that  a  monk 

Is  not  likewise  a  gentleman. 


138 


THE    GREAT    COSSACK   EPIC 


Though  the  patron  saint  of  the  church. 

Spite  of  all  that  we've  done  and  we've  pray'd, 
Leaves  us  wickedly  here  in  the  lurch, 

Hane;  it.  crentlenien.  wlio's  afraid?  " 


And  prepara- 
tion for  dying. 


As  thus  the  gallant  Hyacinthus  spoke, 

He,  with  an  air  as  easy  and  as  free  as 
If  the  quick-coming  murder  were  a  joke, 
Folded  his  robes  around  his  sides,  and  took 
Place  under  sainted  Sophy's  legs  of  oak, 
Like  Cffsar  at  the  statue  of  Pompeius. 
Tlie  monks  no  leisure  had  about  to  look 
(Each  being  absorbed  in  his  particular  case), 
Else  had  they  seen  with  what  celestial  grace 
A  wooden  smile  stole  o'er  the  saint's  mahoganv 
face. 


Saint  Sophia, 
her  speech. 


'■  Well  done,  well  done.  Hyacinthus,  my  son  !  " 

Thus  spoke  the  sainted  statue. 
"  Though  you  doubted  me  in  the  hour  of  need. 
And  spoke  of  me  very  rude  indeed, 
You  deserve  good  luck  for  showing  such  pluck. 
And  I  won't  be  angry  at  you.  " 


She  gets  on  the 
prior's  shoulder 
straddleback, 


And  bids  him 
run. 


The  monks  by-standing,  one  and  all. 
Of  this  wondrous  scene  beholders, 
To  this  kind  promise  listened  content, 
And  couldn't  contain  their  astonishment, 
When  Saint  Sophia  moved  and  went 
Do\vn  from  her  wooden  pedestal. 

And  twisted  her  legs,  sure  as  eggs  is  eggs. 
Round  Hyacinthus's  shoulders ! 
"  Ho  I   forwards,"  cries  Sophy,  "  there's  no  time  for 
waiting. 
The  Cossacks  are  breaking  the  verv  last  gate  In: 


THE  GREAT  COSSACK  EPIC  139 

See  the  glare  of  their  torches  shines  red  through  the 
grating ; 

We've  still  the  back  door,  and  two  minutes  or  more. 
Now  bovs,  now  or  never,  we  must  make  for  the  river, 

For  we  only  are  safe  on  the  opposite  shore. 
Run  swiftly  to-day,  lads,  if  ever  you  ran,— 
Put  out  your  best  leg,  Hyacinthus,  my  man : 
And  I'll  lay  five  to  two  that  you  carry  us  through, 

Only  scamper  as  fast  as  you  can." 

xvin 
Away  went  the  priest  through  the  little  back  door.       He  runneth, 
And  light  on  his  shoulders  the  image  he  bore : 

The  honest  old  priest  was  not  punished  the  least, 
Though  the  image  was  eight  feet,  and  he  measured  four. 
Awa\-  went  the  prior,  and  the  monks  at  his  tail 
Went  snorting,  and  puffing,  and  panting  full  sail ; 

And  just  as  the  last  at  the  back  door  had  passed, 
In  furious  hunt  behold  at  the  front 
The  Tartars  so  fierce,  with  their  terrible  cheers ; 
With  axes,  and  halberts,  and  muskets,  and  spears, 
With  torches  a-flaming  the  chapel  now  came  in. 
They  tore  up  the  mass-book,  they  stamped  on  the  psal- 
ter, 
Thev  pulled  the  gold  crucifix  down  from  the  altar : 
The  vestments  they  burned  with  their  blasphemous  fires. 
And  many  cried,  "  Curse  on  them !   where  are  the  friars?  " 
When  loaded  with  plunder,  yet  seeking  for  more, 
One  chanced  to  fling  open  tlir  littK'  hack  door, 
Spied  out  the  friars'  white  robes  and  long  shadows 
In  the  moon,  scampering  over  the  meadows. 
And  stopped  the  Cossacks  in  the  niiilst  of  their  arsons. 
Bv  crvinc  out  lustilv,  "  There  go  the  parsons!  "      AndtheTarUrs 

J         J       o  .  '  after  him. 

With  a  whoop  and  a  yell,  and  a  scream  and  a  shout, 
At  once  the  whole  murderous  body  turned  out ; 


UO         THE   GREAT   COSSACK   EPIC 

And  swift  as  the  hawk  pounces  down  on  the  pigeon, 
Pursued  the  poor  short-winded  men  of  rehgion. 


How  the  friars   Whcn  the  sound  of  that  cheering  came  to  the  monks' 

sweated.  . 

hearing, 
0  heaven !  how  the  poor  fellows  panted  and  blew ! 
At  fighting  not  cunning,  unaccustomed  to  running. 
When  the  Tartars  came  up,  what  the  deuce  should 
the}'  do? 
"  They'll  make  us  all  martyrs,  those  blood-thirsty  Tartars !  " 
Quoth  fat  Father  Peter  to  fat  Father  Hugh. 
The  shouts  they  came  clearer,  the  foe  they  drew  nearer ; 
Oh,  how  the  bolts  whistled,  and  how  the  lights 
shone ! 
"  I  cannot  get  further,  this  running  is  murther ; 

Come  carry  me,  some  one !  "  cried  big  Father  John. 
And  even  the  statue  grew  frightened,  "  Od  rat  3'ou !  " 

It  cried,  "  Mr.  Prior,  I  Avish  you'd  get  on !  " 
On  tugged  the  good  friar,  but  nigher  and  nigher 
Appeared  the  fierce  Russians,  with  sword  and  with  fire. 
On  tugged  the  good  prior  at  Saint  Sophy's  desire, — 
A   scramble   through   bramble,   through   mud,   and 

through  mire. 
The  swift  arrows'  whizziness  causing  a  dizziness, 
Nigh  done  his  business,  fit  to  expire. 
Father  Hyacinth  tugged,  and  the  monks  they 

tugged  after: 
The  foemen  pursued  with  a  horrible  laughter, 
And  the  pur-       ji^^^  hurl'd  their  lono;  spears  round  the  poor  breth- 

suers  fixed  ox 

arrows  into  reu's  ears, 

their  tayls.  .  r         ^  •     l 

So  true,  that  next  day  m  the  coats  of  each  priest, 
Though  never  a  wound  was  given,  there  were  found 
A  dozen  arrows  at  least. 


THE  GREAT  COSSACK  EPIC  141 

Now  the  chase  seemed  at  its  worst,  How,  at  the 

last  gasp, 

Prior  and  monks  were  fit  to  burst ; 
Scarce  you  knew  the  which  was  first, 

Or  pursuers  or  pursued ; 
When  the  statue,  by  heaven's  grace, 
Suddenly  did  change  the  face 
Of  this  interesting  race. 

As  a  saint,  sure,  only  could. 


For  as  the  jockey  who  at  Epsom  rides. 

When  that  his  steed  is  spent  and  punished  sore, 

Diggeth  his  heels  into  the  courser's  sides. 

And  thereby  makes  him  run  one  or  two  furlongs 

more; 
Even  thus,  betwixt  the  eighth  rib  and  the  ninth. 

The  saint  rebuked  the  prior,  that  weary  creeper ; 
Fresh  strength  into  his  limbs  her  kicks  imparted. 
One  bound  he  made,  as  gay  as  when  he  started.        The  friars  won, 

.        .  .  ,  and  jumped 

Yes,  with  his  brethren  clinging  at  his  cloak,  into  Borys- 

The  statue  on  his  shoulders — fit  to  choke — 
One  most  tremendous  bound  made  Hyacinth, 
And  soused  friars,  statue,  and  all,  slapdash  into  the 
Dnieper ! 


thenes  fluvius. 


XIX 


And  when  the  Russians,  in  a  fiery  rank,  And  how  the 

Russians  saw 

Panting  and  fierce,  drew  up  along  the  shore; 

(For  here  the  vain  pursuing  they  forbore. 
Nor  cared  they  to  surpass  the  river's  bank,) 
Then,  looking  from  the  rocks  and  rushes  dank, 

A  sight  they  witnessed  never  seen  before, 
And  which,  with  its  accompaniments  glorious. 
Is  writ  i'  the  golden  book,  or  liber  aureus. 


142         THE   GREAT   COSSACK   EPIC 

The  statue  get     Plump  ill  tlic  Dnieper  flounced  the  friar 

otf  Hyacinth  ^ 

his  back,  and  and  iriends, — 

Uie  fdars  on  They  dangHng  round  his  neck,  he  fit  to  choke, 

Hyacinth  his  ^j^^^  Suddenly  his  most  miraculous  cloak 

Over  the  billowy  waves  itself  extends, 
Down  from  his  shoulders  quietly  descends 

The  venerable  Sophy's  statue  of  oak ; 
Which,  sitting  down  upon  the  cloak  so  ample, 
Bids  all  the  brethren  follow  its  example! 

How  in  this        Each  at  her  bidding  sat,  and  sat  at  ease ; 

manner  of  boat 

tiiey  sayied  The  statue   gan  a  gracious  conversation, 

And  (waving  to  the  foe  a  salutation) 
Sail'd  with  her  wondering  happy  proteges 
Gaily  adown  the  wide  Borysthenes, 

Until  they  came  unto  some  friendly  nation. 
And  when  the  heathen  had  at  length  grown  shy  of 
Their  conquest,  she  one  day  came  back  again  to 
KiofF. 

XX 

Finis,  or  the  ThINK  NOT,  O  ReaDER,  THAT  We'rE  LAUGHING  AT 

end. 

YOU  ; 

You  MAY  GO  TO  KlGFF  NOW,  AND  SEE  THE  STATUE    ! 


KING  CANUTE 

King  Canute  was  weary-hearted ;  he  had  reigned  for  years  a  score, 
Battling,  strugghng,  pushing,  fighting,  kiUing  much  and 

robbing  more ; 
And  he  thought  upon  his  actions,  walking  by  the  wild  sea-shore. 

'Twixt  the  Chancellor  and  Bishop  walked  the  King  with  steps 
sedate, 

Chamberlains  and  grooms  came  after,  silversticks  and  gold- 
sticks  great. 

Chaplains,  aides-de-camp,  and  pages,— all  the  officers  of  state. 

Sliding  after  like  his  shadow,  pausing  when  he  chose  to  pause, 
If  a  frown  his  face  contracted,  straight  the  courtiers  dropped 

their  jaws; 
If  to  laugh  the  King  was  minded,  out  they  burst  in  loud  hec-haws- 

But  that  day  a  something  vexed  him,  that  was  clear  to  old  and 
young : 

Thrice  his  Grace  had  yawned  at  table,  when  his  favourite  glee- 
men  sung, 

Once  the  Queen  would  have  consoled  him,  but  he  bade  her  hold 
her  tongue. 

"  Something  ails  my  gracious  master,  "  cried  the  Keeper  of  the  Seal. 
"  Sure,  my  lord,  it  is  the  lampreys  served  to  dinner,  or  tlie  veal?  " 
"  Psha!  "  exclaimed  the  angry  monarcli.     "  Keeper,  'tis  not  that  \  fee), 

143 


lU  KING  CANUTE 

"  'Tis  the  heart,  and  not  the  dinner,  fool,  that  doth  my  rest  impair : 
Can  a  king  be  great  as  I  am,  prithee,  and  yet  know  no  care? 
Oh,  I'm  sick,  and  tired,  and  Aveary."  — Some  one  cried,  "  The 
King's  arm-chair !  " 

Then  towards  the  lackeys  turning,  quick  my  Lord  the  Keeper 
nodded. 

Straight  the  King's  great  chair  was  brought  him,  by  two  foot- 
men able-bodied; 

Languidly  he  sank  into  it :  it  was  comfortably  wadded. 

"  Leading  on  my  fierce  companions,"  cried  he,  "  over  storm  and 

brine, 
I  have  fought  and  I  have  conquered !     Where  was  glory  like 

to  mine?  " 
Loudly   all  the   courtiers   echoed:   "Where   is   glory   like   to  thine?" 

"  What  avail  me  all  my  kingdoms  ?    Wcar}^  am  I  now  and  old  ; 
Those  fair  sons  I  have  begotten,  long  to  see  me  dead  and  cold ; 
Would  I  were,  and  quiet  buried,  underneath  the  silent  mould ! 

"  Oh,  remorse,  the  writhing  serpent !  at  my  bosom  tears  and  bites ; 
Horrid,  horrid  things  I  look  on,  though  I  put  out  all  the  lights ; 
Ghosts  of  ghastly  recollections  troop  about  my  bed  at  nights. 

"  Cities  burning,  convents  blazing,  red  with  sacrilegious  fires ; 
iNIothers  weeping,  virgins  screaming:  vainly  for  their  slaugh- 
tered sires."  — 
"  Such  a  tender  conscience,"  cries  the  Bishop,  "  every  one  admires. 

"  But  for  such  unpleasant  bygones,  cease,  my  gracious  lord,  to 
search. 
They're  forgotten  and  forgiven  by  our  Holy  ]M other  Church ; 
Never,  never  does  she  leave  her  benefactors  in  the  lurch. 


KING  CANUTE  145 

'*  Look!   the  land  is  crowned  with  minsters,  which  your  Grace's 
bounty  raised ;  [praised : 

Abbeys  filled  with  holy  men,  where  you  and  Heaven  are  daily 
You,  my  lord,  to  think  of  dying?  on  my  conscience  I'm  amazed!  " 

"  Nay,  I  feel,"  replied  King  Canute,  "  that  my  end  is  drawing  near." 
"  Don't  say  so,"  exclaimed  the  courtiers  (striving  each  to  squeeze 

a  tear). 
"  Sure  your  Grace  is  strong  and  lusty,  and  may  live  this  fifty  year." 

"  Live  these  fifty  years!  "  the  bishop  roared,  with  actions  made 
to  suit.  [Canute ! 

"  Are  you  mad,  my  good  Lord  Keeper,  thus  to  speak  of  King 
Men  have  lived  a  thousand  years,  and  sure  his  Majesty  will  do't. 

"  Adam,  Enoch,  Lamech,  Cainan,  Mahaleel,  Methusela,  [as  they.?  " 

Lived  nine  hundred  years  apiece,  and  mayn't  the  King  as  well 
"  Fervently,"  exclaimed  the  Keeper,  "  fervently  I  trust  he  may." 

"  He  to  die  ?  "  resumed  the  Bishop.  "  He  a  mortal  like  to  us  ? 
Death  was  not  for  him  intended,  though  communis  omnibus  : 
Keeper,  you  are  irreligious,  for  to  talk  and  cavil  thus. 

"  With  his  wondrous  skill  in  healing  ne'er  a  doctor  can  compete, 

Loathsome  lepers,  if  he  touch  them,  start  up  clean  upon  their  feet ; 
Surely  he  could  raise  the  dead  up,  did  his  Highness  think  it  meet. 

"  Did  not  once  the  Jewish  captain  stay  the  sun  upon  the  hill, 
And,  the  while  he  slew  the  focmen,  bid  the  silver  moon  stand  still? 
So,  no  doubt,  could  gracious  Canute,  if  it  were  his  sacred  will." 

"  Might  I  stay  the  sun  above  us,  good  Sir  Bishop?  "  Canute  cried; 
"  Could  I  bid  the  silver  moon  to  pause  upon  her  heavenly  ride? 
If  the  moon  obeys  my  orders,  sure  I  can  command  the  tide. 


146  KING  CANUTE 

"  Will  the  advancing  waves  obey  me,  Bishop,  if  I  make  the  sign?  " 
Said  the  Bishop,  bowing  lowly,  "  Land  and  sea,  my  lord,  are  thine." 
Canute  turned  towards  the  ocean— "  Back !  "  he  said,  "thou 
foaming  brine. 

"  From  the  sacred  shore  I  stand  on,  I  command  thee  to  retreat ; 
Venture  not,  thou  stormy  rebel,  to  approach  thy  master's  seat: 
Ocean,  be  thou  still!   I  bid  thee  come  not  nearer  to  my  feet!  " 

But  the  sullen  ocean  answered  with  a  louder,  deeper  roar, 
And  the  rapid  waves  drew  nearer,  falling  sounding  on  the  shore ; 
Back  the  Keeper  and  the  Bishop,  back  the  King  and  courtiers 
bore. 

And  he  sternly  bade  them  never  more  to  kneel  to  human  clay, 
But  alone  to  praise  and  worship  That  which  earth  and  seas  obey: 
And  his  golden  crown  of  empire  never  wore  he  from  that  day. 
King  Canute  is  dead  and  gone:  Parasites  exist  alway. 


FRIAR'S  SONG 

Some  love  the  matin-chimes,  Avhich  tell 

The  hour  of  prayer  to  sinner : 
But  better  far's  the  mid-day  bell, 

Which  speaks  the  hour  of  dinner; 
For  when  I  see  a  smoking  fish, 

Or  capon  drown'd  in  gravy, 
Or  noble  haunch  on  silver  dish. 

Full  glad  I  sing  my  ave. 

My  pulpit  is  an  alehouse  bench, 

Whereon  I  sit  so  jolly; 
A  smiling  rosy  country  wench 

My  saint  and  patron  holy. 
I  kiss  her  cheek  so  red  and  sleek, 

I  press  her  ringlets  wavy. 
And  in  her  willing  ear  I  speak 

A  most  religious  ave. 

And  if  I'm  blind,  yet  heaven  is  kind, 
And  holy  saints  forgiving; 

For  sure  he  leads  a  right  good  life 
Who  thus  admires  good  living. 

Above,  they  say,  our  flesh  is  air, 
Our  blood  celestial  ichor: 

Oh,  grant !   mid  all  the  changes  there. 
They  may  not  change  our  liquor! 


147 


ATRA   CURA 

Before  I  lost  my  five  poor  wits, 

I  mind  me  of  a  Romish  clerk, 

Who  sang  how  Care,  the  phantom  dark, 

Beside  the  belted  horseman  sits. 

INIethought  I  saw  the  grisly  sprite 

Jump  up  but  now  behind  my  Knight. 

And  though  he  gallop  as  he  may, 
I  mark  that  cursed  monster  black 
Still  sits  behind  his  honour's  back. 
Tight  squeezing  of  his  heart  alway. 
Like  two  black  Templars  sit  they  there. 
Beside  one  crupper,  Knight  and  Care. 

No  knight  am  I  with  pennoned  spear, 
To  prance  upon  a  bold  destrere: 
I  will  not  have  black  Care  prevail 
Upon  my  long-eared  charger's  tail. 
For  lo,  I  am  a  witless  fool, 
And  lauffh  at  Grief  and  ride  a  mule. 


148 


REQUIESCAT 

Under  the  stone  you  behold, 
Buried,  and  coffined,  and  cold, 
Lieth  Sir  Wilfrid  the  Bold. 

Always  he  marched  in  advance, 
Warring  in  Flanders  and  France, 
Doughty  with  sword  and  with  lance. 

Famous  in  Saracen  fight. 

Rode  in  his  youth  the  good  knight, 

Scattering  Paynims  in  flight. 

Brian  the  Templar  untrue, 
Fairly  in  tourney  he  slew. 
Saw  Hierusalem  too. 

Now  he  is  buried  and  gone, 
Lying  beneath  the  grey  stone: 
Where  shall  you  find  such  a  one.'* 

Long  time  his  widow  deplored, 
Weeping  the  fate  of  her  lord. 
Sadly  cut  off  by  the  sword. 

When  she  was  eased  of  her  pain, 
Came  the  good  Lord  Athclstane, 
When  her  ladyship  married  again. 


149 


LINES    UPON    MY    SISTER'S    PORTRAIT 

BY    THE    LORD    SOUTHDOWN 

The  castle  towers  of  Bareacres  are  fair  upon  the  lea. 

Where  the  cliffs  of  bonny  Diddlesex  rise  up  from  out  the  sea : 

I  stood  upon  the  donjon  keep  and  view'd  the  country  o'er, 

I  saw  the  lands  of  Bareacres  for  fifty  miles  or  more. 

I  stood  upon  the  donjon  keep — it  is  a  sacred  place, — 

Where  floated  for  eight  hundred  years  the  banner  of  my  race ; 

Argent,  a  dexter  sinople,  and  gules  an  azure  field : 

There  ne'er  was  nobler  cognizance  on  knightly  warrior's  shield. 

The  first  time  England  saw  the  shield  'twas  round  a  Norman 

neck, 
On  board  a  ship  from  Valery,  King  William  was  on  deck. 
A  Norman  lance  the  colours  wore,  in  Hastings'  fatal  fray  — 
St.  Willibald  for  Bareacres  !   'twas  double  gules  that  day  ! 
O  Heaven  and  sweet  St.  Willibald !   in  many  a  battle  since 
A  loyal-hearted  Bareacres  has  ridden  by  his  Prince! 
At  Acre  with  Plantagenet,  with  Edward  at  Poictiers, 
The  pennon  of  the  Bareacres  was  foremost  on  the  spears ! 

'Twas  pleasant  in  the  battle-shock  to  hear  our  war-cry  ringing: 
Oh  grant  me,  sweet  St.  Willibald,  to  listen  to  such  singing ! 
Three  hundred  steel-clad  gentlemen,  we  drove  the  foe  before  us, 
And  thirty  score  of  British  bows  kept  twanging  to  the  chorus ! 
O  knights,  my  noble  ancestors !  and  shall  I  never  hear 
St.  Willibald  for  Bareacres  through  battle  ringing  clear? 
I'd  cut  me  off  this  strong  right  hand  a  single  hour  to  ride, 
And  strike  a  blow  for  Bareacres,  my  fathers,  at  your  side ! 

.  150 


LINES  UPON  MY  SISTER'S  PORTRAIT  151 

Dash  down,  dash  down,  yon  MandoHn,  beloved  sister  mine ! 
Those  blushing  lips  may  never  sing  the  glories  of  our  line : 
Our  ancient  castles  echo  to  the  clumsy  feet  of  churls, 
The  spinning-jenny  houses  in  the  mansion  of  our  Earls. 
Sing  not,  sing  not,  my  Angeline !    in  days  so  base  and  vile, 
'Twere  sinful  to  be  happy,  'twere  sacrilege  to  smile. 
I'll  hie  me  to  my  lonely  hall,  and  by  its  cheerless  hob 
I'll  muse  on  other  days,  and  wish — and  wish  I  were — A  Snob. 


TITMARSH'S   CARMEN  LILLIENSE 


Lille,  Sept.  2,  1843. 

My  heart  is  weary,  my  peace  is  gone, 

How  shall  I  e'er  my  woes  reveal  ? 
J  have  no  money,  I  lie  in  pawn, 

A  stranger  in  the  town  of  Lille. 


With  twenty  pounds  but  three  weeks  since 
From  Paris  forth  did  Titmarsh  wheel, 

I  thought  myself  as  rich  a  prince 
As  beggar  poor  I'm  now  at  Lille. 

Confiding  in  my  ample  means — 
In  troth,  I  was  a  happy  chiel! 

I  passed  the  gates  of  Valenciennes, 
I  never  thought  to  come  by  Lille. 

I  never  thought  my  twenty  pounds 

Some  rascal  knave  would  dare  to  steal; 

I  gaily  passed  the  Belgic  bounds 

At  Quievrain,  twenty  miles  from  Lille. 
153 


TITMARSH'S    CARMEN    LILLIENSE  153 

To  Antwerp  town  I  hasten'd  post, 

And  as  I  took  my  evening  meal 
I  felt  my  pouch, — my  purse  was  lost, 

O  Heaven!    Why  came  I  not  by  Lille? 


I  straightway  called  for  ink  and  pen, 
To  grandmamma  I  made  appeal ; 

Meanwhile  a  loan  of  guineas  ten 
I  borrowed  from  a  friend  so  leal. 

I  got  the  cash  from  grandmamma 

(Her  gentle  heart  my  woes  could  feel,) 

But  where  I  went,  and  what  I  saw. 
What  matters?     Here  I  am  at  Lille. 


My  heart  is  weary,  my  peace  is  gone, 
How  shall  I  e'er  my  woes  reveal? 

I  have  no  cash,  I  lie  in  pawn, 
A  stranger  in  the  town  of  Lille. 


To  stealing  I  can  never  come. 

To  pawn  my  watch  I'm  too  genteel, 

Besides,  I  left  my  watch  at  home, 
How  could  I  pawn  it  then  at  Lille? 

"  La  note,  "  at  times  the  guests  will  say. 

I  turn  as  white  as  cold  boil'd  veal ; 
I  turn  and  look  another  way, 

/  dare  not  ask  the  bill  at  Lille, 


154  TITMARSH'S    CARMEN    LILLIENSE 

I  dare  not  to  the  landlord  say, 

"  Good  sir,  I  cannot  pay  your  bill ; " 

He  thinks  I  am  a  Lord  Anglais, 
And  is  quite  proud  I  stay  at  Lille. 


He  thinks  I  am  a  Lord  Anglais, 
Like  Rothschild  or  Sir  Robert  Peel, 

And  so  he  serves  me  every  day 

The  best  of  meat  and  drink  in  Lille. 

Yet  when  he  looks  me  in  the  face 
I  blush  as  red  as  cochineal; 

And  think  did  he  but  know  my  case. 
How  changed  he'd  be,  my  host  of  Lille. 

My  heart  is  weary,  my  peace  is  gone, 
How  shall  I  e'er  my  woes  reveal? 

I  have  no  money,  I  lie  in  pawn, 
A  stranger  in  the  town  of  Lille. 


Ill 


The  sun  bursts  out  in  furious  blaze, 
I  perspirate  from  head  to  heel ; 

I'd  like  to  hire  a  one-horse  chaise, 
How  can  I,  without  cash  at  Lille? 

I  pass  in  sunshine  burning  hot 
By  cafes  where  in  beer  they  deal; 

I  think  how  pleasant  were  a  pot, 
A  frothing  pot  of  beer  of  Lille  ! 


TITMARSH'S    CARMEN    LILLIENSE  155 

What  is  jon  house  with  walls  so  thick, 
All  girt  around  with  guard  and  grille? 

O  gracious  gods !    it  makes  me  sick, 
It  is  the  prison-house  of  Lille ! 


0  cursed  prison  strong  and  barred, 
It  does  my  very  blood  congeal ! 

1  tremble  as  I  pass  the  guard, 

And  quit  that  ugly  part  of  Lille. 

The  church-door  beggar  whines  and  prays, 

I  turn  away  at  his  appeal : 
Ah,  church-door  beggar !  go  thy  ways ! 

You're  not  the  poorest  man  in  Lille. 

My  heart  is  weary,  my  peace  is  gone. 
How  shall  I  e'er  my  woes  reveal? 

I  have  no  money,  I  lie  in  pawn, 
A  stranger  in  the  town  of  Lille. 


IV 


Say,  shall  I  to  yon  Flemish  church. 
And  at  a  Popish  altar  kneel? 

Oh,  do  not  leave  me  in  the  lurch, — 
I'll  cry,  ye  patron-saints  of  Lille ! 

Ye  virgins  dressed  in  satin  lioops. 
Ye  martyrs  slain  for  mortal  weal, 

Look  kindly  down  !    before  you  stoops 
The  miserablest  man  in  Lille. 


156  TITMARSH'S    CARMEN    LILLIENSE 

And  lo !   as  I  beheld  with  awe 

A  pictured  saint  (I  swear  'tis  real), 

It  smiled,  and  turned  to  grandmamma ! — 
It  did !   and  I  had  hope  in  Lille ! 

'Twas  five  o'clock,  and  I  could  eat, 
Although  I  could  not  pay  my  meal: 

I  hasten  back  into  the  street 

Where  lies  my  inn,  the  best  in  Lille. 

What  see  I  on  my  table  stand, — 
A  letter  with  a  well-known  seal? 
'Tis  grandmamma's !    I  know  her  hand, — 
"  To  Mr.  M.  A.  Titmarsh,  Lille.  " 

I  feel  a  choking  in  my  throat, 

I  pant  and  stagger,  faint  and  reel ! 

It  is — it  is — a  ten-pound  note, 

And  I'm  no  more  in  pawn  at  Lille ! 

[He  goes  off  by  the  diligence  that  evening,  and  is  restored  to 
the  bosom  of  his  happy  family.  ] 


THE  WILLOW-TREE 

Know  ye  the  willow-tree 

Whose  grey  leaves  quiver, 
Whispering  gloomily 

To  yon  pale  river ; 
Lady,  at  even-tide 

Wander  not  near  it, 
They  say  its  branches  hide 

A  sad,  lost  spirit ! 

Once  to  the  willow-tree 

A  maid  came  fearful, 
Pale  seemed  her  cheek  to  be, 

Her  blue  eye  tearful; 
Soon  as  she  saw  the  tree, 

Her  step  moved  fleeter, 
No  one  was  there — ah  me! 

No  one  to  meet  her ! 

Quick  beat  her  heart  to  hear 

The  far  bell's  chime 
Toll  from  the  chapcl-tower 

The  trysting  time: 
But  the  red  sun  went  down 

In  golden  flame, 
And  though  she  looked  round. 

Yet  no  one  came ! 
157 


158  THE  WILLOW-TREE 

Presently  came  the  night, 

Sadly  to  greet  her, — 
Moon  in  her  silver  light, 

Stars  in  their  glitter ; 
Then  sank  the  moon  away 

Under  the  billow, 
Still  wept  the  maid  alone — 

There  by  the  willow  ! 

Through  the  long  darkness. 

By  the  stream  rolling. 
Hour  after  hour  went  on 

Tolling  and  tolling. 
Long  was  the  darkness, 

Lonely  and  stilly ; 
Shrill  came  the  night-wind. 

Piercing  and  chilly. 

Shrill  blew  the  morning  breeze, 

Biting  and  cold, 
Bleak  peers  the  grey  dawn 

Over  the  wold. 
Bleak  over  moor  and  stream 

Looks  the  grey  dawn. 
Grey,  with  dishevelled  hair. 
Still  stands  the  willow  there — 

The  maid  is  gone  ! 


Domine,  Domine! 

Sing  we  a  litany, — 
Sing  for  poor  maiden-hearts  broken  and  weary; 

Domine,  Domine! 
Sing  we  a  litany. 

Wail  we  and  weep  we  a  wild  Miserere! 


THE  WILLOW-TREE 

(another  version) 


Long  by  the  willow-trees 
Vainly  they  sought  her, 

Wild  rang  the  mother's  screams 
O'er  the  grey  water : 

Where  is  my  lovely  one? 
Where  is  my  daughter? 


n 


"  Rouse  thee,  sir  constable — 
Rouse  thee  and  look ; 

Fisherman,  bring  your  net, 
Boatman  your  hook. 

Beat  in  the  lily-beds. 
Dive  in  the  brook !  " 


ni 

Vainly  the  constable 

Shouted  and  called  her; 

Vainly  the  fisherman 
Beat  the  green  alder. 

Vainly  he  flung  the  net. 
Never  it  hauled  her! 
159 


160 


THE  WILLOW-TREE 


IV 

Mother  beside  the  fire 
Sat,  her  nightcap  in ; 

Father,   in  easy   chair, 
Gloomily  napping. 

When  at  the  window-sill 
Came  a  light  tapping! 


And  a  pale  countenance 

Looked  through  the  casement. 

Loud  beat  the  mother's  heart, 
Sick  with  amazement. 

And  at  the  vision  which 
Came  to  surprise  her, 

Shrieked  in  an  agony — 

"Lor!  it's  Elizar!" 


VI 

Yes,  'twas  Elizabeth — 
Yes,  'twas  their  girl ; 
Pale  was  her  cheek,  and  her 
Hair  out  of  curl. 
"  Mother !  "  the  loving  one. 

Blushing,  exclaimed, 
"  Let  not  your  innocent 
Lizzy  be  blamed. 

vn 


"  Yesterday,  going  to  aunt 
Jones's  to  tea. 
Mother,  dear  mother,  I 
Forgot  the  door-key! 


THE   WILLOW-TREE  161 

And  as  the  night  was  cold, 

And  the  way  steep, 
Mrs.  Jones  kept  me  to 

Breakfast  and  sleep." 


vra 

Whether  her  Pa  and  Ma 

Fully  believed  her. 
That  we  shall  never  know, 

Stern  they  received  her; 
And  for  the  work  of  that 

Cruel,  though  short,  night, 
Sent  her  to  bed  without 

Tea  for  a  fortnight. 


DC 


MORAL 

Hey  diddle  diddlety. 

Cat  and  the  Fiddlety, 
Maidens  of  England  take  caution  by  she! 

Let  love  and  suicide 

Never  tempt  you  aside. 
And  always  remember  to  take  the  door-key. 


LYRA  HIBERNICA 

THE  POEMS  OF  THE  MOLONY  OF  KILBALLYMOLONY 


LYRA  HIBERNICA 

THE  POEMS  OF  THE  MOLONY  OF   KILBALLYMOLONY 


THE  PIMLICO  PAVILION 

Ye  pathrons  of  janlus,  Minerva  and  Vanlus, 
Who  sit  on  Parnassus,  that  mountain  of  snow, 

Descind  from  your  station  and  make  observation 
Of  the  Prince's  pavilion  in  sweet  Pimlico. 

This  garden,  by  jakurs,  is  forty  poor  acres, 

(The  garner  he  tould  me,  and  sure  ought  to  know;) 

And  yet  greatly  bigger,  in  size  and  in  figure, 
Than  the  Phanix  itself,  seems  the  Park  Pimlico. 

O  His  there  that  the  spoort  is,  when  the  Queen  and  the 
Court  is 

Walking  magnanimous  all  of  a  row. 
Forgetful  what  state  is  among  the  pataties 

And  the  pine-apple  gardens  of  sweet  Pimlico. 

There  in  blossoms  odorous  the  birds  sing  a  chorus, 
Of  "  God  save  the  Queen  "  as  they  hop  to  and  fro ; 

And  you  sit  on  the  binchos  and  hark  to  the  finches, 
Singing   melodious  in  sweet  Pimlico. 
165 


166  LYRA  HIBERNICA 

There  shuiting  their  phanthasies,  they  pluck  polyanthuses 
That  round  in  the  gardens  resplindently  grow, 

Wid  roses  and  jessiniins,  and  other  sweet  specimins, 
Would  charm  bould  Linnayus  in  sweet  Pimlico. 

You  see  when  you  inther,  and  stand  in  the  cinther, 

Where  the  roses,  and  necturns,  and  coUyflowers  blow, 

A  hill  so  tremindous,  it  tops  the  top-windows 
Of  the  elegant  houses  of  famed  Pimlico. 

And  when  you've  ascinded  that  precipice  splindid 
You  see  on  its  summit  a  wondtherful  show — 

A  lovely  Swish  building,  all  painting  and  gilding, 
The  famous  Pavilion  of  sweet  Pimlico. 

Prince  Albert,  of  Flandthers,  that  Prince  of  Commandthers, 
(On  whom  my  best  blessings  hereby  I  bestow,) 

With  goold  and  vermilion  has  decked  that  Pavilion, 
Where  the  Queen  may  take  tay  in  her  sweet  Pimlico. 

There's  lines  from  John  Milton  the  chamber  all  gilt  on. 
And  pictures  beneath  them  that's  shaped  like  a  bow ; 

I  was  greatly  astounded  to  think  that  that  Roundhead 
Should  find  an  admission  to  famed  Pimlico. 

0  lovely's  each  fresco,  and  most  picturesque  0 ; 
And  while  round  the  chamber  astonished  I  go, 

1  think  Dan  Maclise's  it  baits  all  the  pieces 
Surrounding  the  cottage  of  famed  Pimlico. 

Eastlake  has  the  chimney,  (a  good  one  to  limn  he,) 
And  a  vargin  he  paints  with  a  sarpent  below ; 

While  bulls,  pigs,  and  panthers,  and  other  enchanthers. 
Are  painted  by  Landseer  in  sweet  Pimlico. 


THE    PIMLICO   PAVILION  167 

And  nature  smiles  opposite,  Stanfield  he  copies  it: 
O'er  Claude  or  Poussang  sure  'tis  he  that  may  crow ; 

But  Sir  Ross's  best  faiture  is  small  mini-ature— 
He  shouldn't  paint  frescoes  in  famed  Pimhco. 

There's  Leslie  and  Uwins  has  rather  small  doings ; 

There's  Dyce,  as  brave  masther  as  England  can  show ; 
And  the  flowers  and  the  sthrawberries,  sure  he  no  dauber  is, 

That  painted  the  panels  of  famed  Pimlico. 

In  the  pictures  from  Walther  Scott,  never  a  fault  there's 

got, 
Sure  the  marble's  as  natural  as  thrue  Scaglio ; 
And  the  Chamber  Pompayen  is  sweet  to  take  tay  in, 
And  ait  butther'd  muffins  in  sweet  Pimlico. 

There's  landscapes  by  Gruner,  both  solar  and  lunar, 
Them  two  little  Doyles  too,  deserve  a  bravo ; 

Wid  de  piece  by  young  Townsend,  (for  janius  abounds 
in't;) 
And  that's  why  he's  shuited  to  paint  Pimhco. 

That  picture  of  Severn's  is  worthy  of  rever'nce. 
But  some  I  won't  mintion  is  rather  so  so ; 

For  sweet  philoso'phy,  or  crumpets  and  coffee, 
O  where's  a  Pavilion  like  sweet  Pimlico? 

O  to  praise  this  Pavilion  would  puzzle  Quintilian, 
Daymosthencs,  Brougham,  or  young  Cicero; 

So  heavenly  Goddess,  d'ye  pardon  my  modesty, 
And  silence,  my  lyre !   about  sweet  Pimlico. 


THE   CRYSTAL   PALACE 

With  ganial  foire 

Thransfuse  me  loyre, 
Ye  sacred  nymphs  of  Pindus, 

The  whoile  I  sing 

That  wondthrous  thing, 
The  Palace  made  o'  windows! 

Say,  Paxton,  truth, 

Thou  wondthrous  youth, 
What  sthroke  of  art  ceHstial, 

What  power  was  lint 

You  to  invint 
This  combineetion  cristial. 

O  would  before 

That  Thomas  Moore, 
Likewoise  the  late  Lord  Boyron, 

Thim  aigles  sthrong 

Of  godlike  song. 
Cast  oi  on  that  cast  oiron! 

And  saw  thim  walls, 

And  glittering  halls, 
Thim  rising  slendther  columns, 

Which  I  poor  potc. 

Could  not  denote. 
No,  not  in  twinty  vollums. 

168 


THE    CRYSTAL   PALACE  169 

My  Muse's  words 

Is  like  the  bird's 
That  roosts  beneath  the  panes  there; 

Her  wings  she  spoils 

'Gainst  them  bright  toiles, 
And  cracks  her  silly  brains  there. 

This  Palace  tall, 

This  Cristial  Hall, 
Which  Impcrors  might  covet, 

Stands  in  High  Park 

Like  Noah's  Ark, 
A  rainbow  bint  above  It. 

The  towers  and  fanes, 

In  other  scaynes, 
The  fame  of  this  will  undo, 

Saint  Paul's  big  doom. 

Saint  Payther's  Room, 
And  Dublin's  proud  Rotundo.  • 

'Tis  here  that  roams. 

As  well  becomes 
Her  dignitee  and  stations, 

Victoria  Great, 

And  houlds  in  state 
The  Congress  of  the  Nations. 


Her  subjects  pours 

From  distant  shores. 
Her  Injians  and  Canajians; 

And  also  we, 

Her  kingdoms  three, 
Attind  with  our  allagiance. 


170  LYRA  HIBERNICA 

Here  come  likewise 
Her  bould  allies, 

Both  Asian  and  Europian ; 
From  East  and  West 
They  send  their  best 

To  fill  her  Coornucopean. 


I  seen  (thank  Grace!) 

This  wondthrous  place 
(His  Noble  Honour  Misther 

H.  Cole  it  was 

That  gave  the  pass, 
And  let  me  see  what  is  there). 

With  conscious  proide 

I  stud  insoidc 
And  look'd  the  World's  Great  Fair  in, 

Until  me  sight 

Was  dazzled  quite, 
And  couldn't  see  for  staring. 

There's  holy  saints 

And  window  paints, 
By  Maydiayval  Pugin; 

Alhamborough  Jones 

Did  paint  the  tones 
Of  yellow  and  gambouge  in. 

There's  fountains  there 

And  crosses  fair; 
There's  water-gods  with  urrns: 

There's  organs  three. 

To  play,  d'ye  see? 
"  God  save  the  Queen,  "  by  turrns. 


THE    CRYSTAL   PALACE  171 

There's  Statues  bright 

Of  marble  white, 
Of  silver,  and  of  copper; 

And  some  in  zinc, 

And  some,  I  think, 
That  isn't  over  proper. 

There's  staym  Ingynes, 

That  stands  in  lines, 
Enormous  and  amazing. 

That  squeal  and  snort 

Like  whales  in  sport, 
Or  elephants  a-grazing. 

There's  carts  and  gigs, 

And  pins  for  pigs, 
There's  dibblers  and  there's  harrows, 

And  ploughs  like  toys 

For  little  boys. 
And  ilegant  wheel-barrows. 

For  thim  genteels 

Who  ride  on  wheels. 
There's  plenty  to  indulge  'em: 

There's  Droskys  snug 

From  Paytersbug, 
And  vayhycles  from  Bulgium. 

There's  Cabs  on  Stands 

And  Shandthry  danns ; 
There's  Waggons  from  New  York  here; 

There's  Lapland  Sleighs 

Have  cross'd  the  seas. 
And  Jaunting  Cyars  from  Cork  here. 


172  LYRA  HIBERNICA 

Amazed  I  pass 

From  glass  to  glass, 
Deloighted  I  survey  'em ; 

Fresh  wondthers  grows 

Before  me  nose 
In  this  sublime  Musajum! 

Look,  here's  a  fan 

From  far  Japan, 
A  sabre  from  Damasco: 

There's  shawls  ye  get 

From  far  Thibet, 
And  cotton  prints  from  Glasgow. 

There's  German  flutes, 

Marocky  boots. 
And  Naples  Macaronies ; 

Bohaymia 

Has  sent  Bohay ; 
Polonia  her  polonies. 

There's  granite  flints 
That's  quite  imminse. 

There's  sacks  of  coals  and  fuels, 
There's  swords  and  guns. 
And  soap  in  tuns. 

And  Ginger-bread  and  Jewels. 

There's  taypots  there, 
And  cannons  rare; 

There's  coffins  fill'd  with  roses; 
There's  canvas  tints. 
Teeth  insthrumints, 

And  shuits  of  clothes  by  Moses. 


1851. 


MOLONY'S  LAMENT  173 

There's  lashins  more 

Of  things  in  store, 
But  thim  I  don't  remimber; 

Nor  could  disclose 

Did  I  compose 
From  May  time  to  Novimber! 

Ah,  Judy  thru ! 

With  ejes   so  blue, 
That  you  were  here  to  view  it! 

And  could  I  screw 

But  tu  pound  tu, 
'Tis  I  would  thrait  you  to  it ! 

So  let  us  raise 

Victoria's  praise, 
And  Albert's  proud  condition, 

That  takes  his  ayse 

As  he  surveys 
This  Cristial  Exhibition. 


MOLONY'S  LAMENT 

O  Tim,  did  you  hear  of  thim  Saxons, 
And  read  what  the  peepers  report? 

They're  goan  to  recal  the  Liftinant, 
And  shut  up  the  Castle  and  Coort ! 


174  LYRA  HIBERNICA 

Our  desolate  counthry  of  Oireland, 

They're  bint,  the  blagyards,  to  desthroy, 

And  now  having  murdthered  our  counthry, 
They're  goin  to  kill  the  Viceroy, 

Dear  boy ; 
'Twas  he  was  our  proide  and  our  joy! 


And  will  we  no  longer  behould  him, 

Surrounding  his  carriage  in  throngs, 
As  he  weaves  his  cocked-hat  from  the  windies, 

And  smiles  to  his  bould  aid-de-congs? 
I  liked  for  to  see  the  young  haroes. 

All  shoining  with  sthripes  and  with  stars, 
A  horsing  about  in  the  Phaynix, 

And  winking  the  girls  in  the  cyars, 
Like  Mars, 

A  smokin'  their  poipes  and  cigyars. 

Dear  Mitchell  exoiled  to  Bermudies, 

Your  beautiful  oilids  you'll  ope. 
And  there'll  be  an  abondance  of  croyin' 

From  O'Brine  at  the  Keep  of  Good  Hope, 
When  they  read  of  this  news  in  the  peepers, 

Acrass  the  Atlantical  wave. 
That  the  last  of  the  Oirish  Liftinints 

Of  the  oisland  of  Seents  has  tuck  lave. 
God  save 

The  Queen — she  should  betther  behave. 


And  what's  to  become  of  poor  Dame  Sthreet, 
And  who'll  ait  the  puffs  and  the  tarts, 

Whin  the  Coort  of  imparial  splindor 
From  Doblin's  sad  city  departs? 


MOLONY'S  LAMENT  175 

And  who'll  have  the  fiddlers  and  pipers, 

When  the  deuce  of  a  Coort  there  remains? 

And  where'll  be  the  bucks  and  the  ladies, 
To  hire  the  Coort-shuits  and  the  thrains? 

In  sthrains. 
It's  thus  that  ould  Erin  complains! 


There's  Counsellor  Flanagan's  leedy 

'Twas  she  in  the  Coort  didn't  fail, 
And  she  wanted  a  plinty  of  popplin, 

For  her  dthress,  and  her  flounce,  and  her  tail; 
She  bought  it  of  Misthress  O'Grady, 

Eight  shillings  a  yard  tabinet, 
But  now  that  the  Coort  is  concluded, 

The  divvle  a  yard  will  she  get ; 
I  bet, 

Bedad,  that  she  wears  the  old  set. 

There's  Surgeon  O'Toole  and  Miss  Leary, 

They'd  daylings  at  Madam  O'Riggs'; 
Each  year  at  the  dthrawing-room  sayson, 

They  mounted  the  neatest  of  wigs. 
When  Spring,  with  its  buds  and  its  dasies, 

Comes  out  in  her  beauty  and  bloom, 
Thim  tu'll  never  think  of  new  jasies, 

Becase  there  is  no  dthrawing-room, 
For  whom 

They'd  choose  the  expense  to  ashume. 


There's  Alderman  Toad  and  his  lady, 

'Twas  they  gave  the  Clart  and  the  Poort, 

And  the  poinc-apples,  turbots,  and  lobsters, 
To  feast  the  Lord  Liftinint's  Coort. 


176  LYRA  HIBERNICA 

But  now  that  the  quality's  goin, 
I  warnt  that  the  aiting  will  stop, 

And  you'll  get  at  the  Alderman's  teeble 
The  devil  a  bite  or  a  dthrop, 

Or  chop ; 
And  the  butcher  may  shut  up  his  shop. 

Yes,  the  grooms  and  the  ushers  are  goin. 

And  his  Lordship,  the  dear  honest  man, 
And  the  Duchess,  his  eemiablc  leedy, 

And  Corry,  the  bould  Connellan, 
And  little  Lord  Hyde  and  the  childthren. 

And  the  Chewter  and  Governess  tu ; 
And  the  servants  are  packing  their  boxes, — 

Oh,  murther,  but  what  shall  I  due 
Without  you? 

O  Meery,  with  ois  of  the  blue ! 


MR.  MOLONY'S  ACCOUNT  OF   THE  BALL 

GIVEN    TO    THE    NEPAULESE    AMBASSADOR    BY    THE    PENINSULAR 
AND     ORIENTAL     COMPANY 

O  WILL  3'e  choose  to  hear  the  news, 

Bcdad  I  cannot  pass  it  o'er: 
I'll  tell  you  all  about  the  Ball 

To  the  Naypaulase  Ambassador. 
Begor !  this  fete  all  balls  does  bate 

At  which  I've  worn  a  pump,  and  I 
Must  here  relate  the  splendthor  great 

Of  th'  Oriental  Company. 


MR.  MOLONY'S  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  BALL  177 

These  men  of  sinse  dispoised  cxpinse, 
To  fete  these  black  Achillcscs. 
"  We'll  show  the  blacks,"  says  they,  "  Almack's, 
And  take  the  rooms  at  Willis's.  " 
With  flags  and  shawls,  for  these  Nepauls, 

•  They  hung  the  rooms  of  Willis  up, 
And  decked  the  walls,  and  stairs,  and  halls, 
With  roses  and  with  lilies  up. 

And  Jullicn's  band  it  tuck  its  stand, 

So  sweetly  in  the  middle  there. 
And  soft  bassoons  played  heavenly  chunes, 

And  violins  did  fiddle  there. 
And  when  the  Coort  was  tired  of  spoort, 

I'd  lave  you,  boys,  to  think  there  was 
A  nate  buffet  before  them  set, 

Where  lashins  of  good  dhrink  there  was. 

At  ten  before  the  ball-room  door, 

His  moighty  Excellency  was. 
He  smoiled  and  bowed  to  all  the  crowd, 

So  gorgeous  and  immense  he  was. 
His  dusky  shuit,  sublime  and  mute. 

Into  the  door-way  followed  him ; 
And  O  the  noise  of  the  blackguard  boys, 

As  they  hurrood  and  hollowed  him ! 

The  noble  Chair  '  stud  at  the  stair. 

And  bade  the  dthrums  to  thump ;  and  he 

Did  thus  evince,  to  that  Black  Prince, 
The  welcome  of  his  Company. 

1  James  Matheson,  Esq.,  to  whom,  and  the  Board  of  Directors  of  the 
Peninsular  and  Oriental  Company,  I,  Timotheiis  Molony,  late  stoker  on  board 
the  "Iberia,"  the  "Lady  Mary  Wood,"  the  "Ta^us,"  and  the  Oriental 
steamships,  humbly  dedicate  this  production  of  my  grateful  muse. 


178  LYRA  HIBERNICA 

O  fair  the  girls,  and  rich  the  curls, 

And  bright  the  oys  you  saw  there,  was; 

And  fixed  each  oye,  ye  there  could  spoi, 
On  Gineral  Jung  Bahawther,  was ! 

This  Gineral  great  then  tuck  his  sate, 

With  all  the  other  ginerals, 
(Bedad  his  troat,  his  belt,  his  coat, 

All  bleezcd  with  precious  minerals;) 
And  as  he  there,  with  princely  air, 

Recloinin  on  his  cushion  was. 
All  round  about  his  royal  chair 

The  squeezin  and  the  pushin  was. 

O  Pat,  such  girls,  such  Jukes,  and  Earls, 

Such  fashion  and  nobilitee ! 
Just  think  of  Tim,  and  fancy  him 

Amidst  the  hoigh  gentilitee  ! 
There  was  Lord  De  L'Huys,  and  the  Portygeese 

Ministher  and  his  lady  there. 
And  I  reckonised,  with  much  surprise, 

Our  messmate.  Bob  O'Grady,  there; 

There  was  Baroness  Brunow,  that  looked  like  Juno, 

And  Baroness  Rehausen  there. 
And  Countess  Roullier,  that  looked  peculiar 

Well,  in  her  robes  of  gauze  in  there. 
There  was  Lord  Crowhurst  (I  knew  him  first, 

When  only  Mr.  Pips  he  was). 
And  Mick  O'Toole,  the  great  big  fool, 

That  after  supper  tipsy  was. 

There  was  Lord  Fingall,  and  his  ladies  all, 

And  Lords  Killeen  and  DufFerin, 
And  Paddy  Fife,  with  his  fat  wife ; 

I  wondther  how  he  could  stuff  her  in. 


THE  BATTLE  OF  LIMERICK         179 

There  was  Lord  Belfast,  that  by  me  past, 
And  seemed  to  ask  how  should  /  go  there? 

And  the  Widow  Macrae,  and  Lord  A.  Hay, 
And  the  Marchioness  of  Sligo  there. 

Yes,  Jukes,  and  Earls,  and  diamonds,  and  pearls, 

And  pretty  girls,  was  spoorting  there; 
And  some  beside  (the  rogues!)  I  spied, 

Behind  the  windics,  coorting  there. 
O,  there's  one  I  know,  bedad  would  show 

As  beautiful  as  any  there. 
And  I'd  like  to  hear  the  pipers  blow. 

And  shake  a  fut  with  Fanny  there ! 


THE  BATTLE   OF  LIMERICK 

Ye  Genii  of  the  nation. 

Who  look  with  veneration. 
And  Ireland's  desolation  onsaysingly  deplore; 

Ye  sons  of  General  Jackson, 

Who  thrample  on  the  Saxon, 
Attend  to  the  thransaction  upon  Shannon  shore. 

When  William,  Duke  of  Schunibug, 

A  tyrant  and  a  humbug, 
With  cannon  and  with  thunder  on  our  city  bore. 

Our  fortitude  and  valliance 

Insthructed  iiis  battalions 
To  rispict  the  galliant  Irish  upon  Sliaiuiou  shore. 


180  LYRA  HIBERNICA 

Since  that  capitulation, 
No  city  in  this  nation 
So  grand  a  reputation  could  boast  before, 
As  Limerick  prodigious, 
That  stands  with  quays  and  bridges. 
And  the  ships  up  to  the  windies  of  the  Shannon  shore. 

A  chief  of  ancient  line, 

'Tis  William  Smith  O'Brine 
Reprisints  this  darling  Limerick,  this  ten  years  or 
more : 

O  the  Saxons  can't  endure 

To  see  him  on  the  flure, 
And  thrimble  at  the  Cicero  from  Shannon  shore! 

This  valliant  son  of  Mars 

Had  been  to  visit  Par's, 
That  land  of  Revolution,  that  grows  the  tricolor; 

And  to  welcome  his  returrn 

From  pilgrimages  furren, 
We  invited  him  to  tay  on  the  Shannon  shore. 

Then  we  summoned  to  our  board 

Young  Meagher  of  the  sword: 
'Tis  he  will  sheathe  that  battle-axe  in  Saxon  gore; 

And  Mitchil  of  Belfast 

We  bade  to  our  repast. 
To  dthrink  a  dish  of  coffee  on  the  Shannon  shore. 

Convaniently  to  hould 

These  patriots  so  bould 
We  tuck  the  opportunity  of  Tim  Doolan's  store; 

And  with  ornamints  and  banners 

(As  becomes  gintale  good  manners) 
We  made  the  loveliest  tay-room  upon  Shannon  shore. 


THE  BATTLE    OF  LIMERICK         181 

'Twould  binifit  your  sowls, 

To  see  the  butthered  rowls, 
The  sugar-tongs  and  sangwidges  and  craim  galyore, 

And  the  muffins  and  the  crumpets, 

And  the  band  of  harps  and  thrumpets, 
To  celebrate  the  sworry  upon  Shannon  shore. 

Sure  the  Imperor  of  Bohay 

Would  be  proud  to  dthrink  the  tay 
That  Misthress  Biddy  Rooney  for  O'Brine  did  pour ; 

And,  since  the  days  of  Strongbow, 

There  never  was  such  Congo — 
Mitchil  dthrank  six  quarts  of  it— by  Shannon  shore. 

But  Clarndon  and  Corry 

Connellan  beheld  this  sworry 
With  rage  and  imulation  in  their  black  hearts'  core ; 

And  they  hired  a  gang  of  ruffins 

To  interrupt  the  muffins, 
And  the  fragrance  of  the  Congo  on  the  Shannon  shore. 

When  full  of  tay  and  cake, 

O'Brine  began  to  spake ; 
But  juice  a  one  could  hear  him,  for  a  sudden  roar 

Of  a  ragamuffin  rout 

Began  to  yell  and  shout. 
And  frighten  the  propriety  of  Shannon  shore. 

As  Smith  O'Brine  harangued. 
They  batthcrcd  and  they  banged : 

Tim  Doolan's  doors  and  windics  down  they  tore ; 
They  smashed  the  lovely  windics 
(Hung  with  muslin  from  the  Indies), 

Purshuing  of  their  shindies  upon  Shannon  shore. 


182  LYRA  HIBERNICA 

With  throwing  of  brickbats, 

Drowned  puppies  and  dead  rats, 
These  ruffin  democrats  themselves  did  lower ; 

Tin  kettles,  rotten  eggs. 

Cabbage-stalks,  and  wooden  legs, 
They  flung  among  the  patriots  of  Shannon  shore. 

O  the  girls  began  to  scrame 

And  upset  the  milk  and  crame; 
And  the  honourable  gintlemin,  they  cursed  and  swore: 

And  Mitchil  of  Belfast, 

'Twas  he  that  looked  aghast. 
When  they  roasted  him  in  effigy  by  Shannon  shore. 

O  the  lovely  tay  was  spilt 
On  that  day  of  Ireland's  guilt; 
Says  Jack  Mitchil,  "  I  am  kilt !    Boys,  where's  the  back 
door  ? 
'Tis  a  national  disgrace: 
Let  me  go  and  veil  me  face ;  " 
And  he  boulted  with  quick  pace  from  the  Shannon 
shore. 

"  Cut  down  the  bloody  horde !  " 
Says  Meagher  of  the  sword, 
"  This  conduct  would  disgrace  any  blackamore ;  " 
But  the  best  use  Tommy  made 
Of  his  famous  battle  blade 
Was  to  cut  his  own  stick  from  the  Shannon  shore. 

Immortal  Smith  O'Brine 

Was  raging  like  a  line ; 
Twould  have  done  your  sowl  good  to  have  heard  him  roar ; 

In  his  glory  he  arose. 

And  he  rush'd  upon  his  foes. 
But  they  hit  him  on  the  nose  by  the  Shannon  shore. 


LARRY  O'TOOLE  183 

Then  the  Futt  and  the  Dthragoons 

In  squadthrons  and  platoons, 
With  their  music  playing  chunes,  down  upon  us  bore ; 

And  they  bate  the  rattatoo, 

But  the  Peelers  came  in  view, 
And  ended  the  shaloo  on  the  Shannon  shore. 


LARRY  O'TOOLE 

You've  all  heard  of  Larry  O'Toole, 
Of  the  beautiful  town  of  Drumgoole; 

He  had  but  one  eye, 

To  ogle  ye  by — 
Oh,  murther,  but  that  was  a  jew'l! 

A  fool 
He  made  of  de  girls,  dis  O'Toole. 

'Twas  he  was  the  boy  didn't  fail, 

That  tuck  down  pataties  and  mail; 
He  never  would  shrink 
From  any  sthrong  dthrink, 

Was  it  whisky  or  Drogheda  ale; 
I'm  bail 

This  Larry  would  swallow  a  pail. 

Oh,  many  a  night  at  the  bowl. 
With  Larry  I've  sot  cheek  by  jowl; 

He's  gone  to  his  rest. 

Where  there's  dthrink  of  the  best. 
And  so  let  us  give  his  old  sowl 

A  howl, 
For  'twas  he  made  the  noggin  to  rowl. 


THE  ROSE  OF  FLORA 

Sent  by  a  Young  Gentleman  of  Quality  to  Miss  Br—dy,  of  Castle  Brady. 

On  Brady's  tower  there  grows  a  flower, 
It  is  the  lovehest  flower  that  blows, — 

At  Castle  Brady  there  lives  a  lady, 
(And  how  I  love  her  no  one  knows)  ; 

Her  name  is  Nora,  and  the  goddess  Flora 
Presents  her  with  this  blooming  rose. 

"  O  Lady  Nora,"  says  the  goddess  Flora, 
"  I've  many  a  rich  and  bright  parterre ; 
In  Brady's  towers  there's  seven  more  flowers. 

But  you're  the  fairest  lady  there: 
Not  all  the  county,  nor  Ireland's  bounty, 

Can  pro  juice  a  treasure  that's  half  so  fair!  " 

What  cheek  is  redder  ?  sure  roses  fed  her ! 

Her  hair  is  maregolds,  and  her  eye  of  blew. 
Beneath  her  eyelid,  is  like  the  vi'let. 

That  darkly  glistens  with  gentle  jew! 
The  lily's  nature  is  not  surely  whiter 

Than  Nora's  neck  is,— and  her  arrums  too. 

"  Come,  gentle  Nora,"  says  the  goddess  Flora, 
"  My  dearest  creature,  take  my  advice, 
There  is  a  poet,  full  well  you  know  it. 

Who  spends  his  lifetime  in  heavy  sighs,— 
Young  Redmond  Barry,  'tis  him  you'll  marry, 
If  rhyme  and  raisin  you'd  choose  likewise." 


184 


THE  LAST  IRISH  GRIEVANCE 

On  reading  of  the  general  indignation  occasioned  in  Ireland  by  the  appoint- 
ment of  a  Scotch  Professor  to  one  of  Her  Majesty's  Godless  Colleges,  Master 
MoLLOY  MoLONV,  brother  of  Thaddeus  Molony,  Esq.,  of  the  Temple,  a  youth 
only  fifteen  years  of  age,  dashed  off  the  following  spirited  lines:  — 

As  I  think  of  the  insult  that's  done  to  this  nation, 
Red  tears  of  rivinge  from  me  faytures  I  wash, 

And  uphold  in  this  pome,  to  the  world's  daytistation, 
The  sleeves  that  appointed  Professor  M'Cosh. 

I  look  round  me  counthree,  renowned  by  exparlence. 
And  see  midst  her  childthren,  the  witty,  the  wise, — 

Whole  hayps  of  logicians,  potes,  schollars,  grammarians, 
All  ayger  for  pleeces,  all  panting  to  rise; 

I  gaze  round  the  world  in  its  utmost  diminsion ; 

Lard  Jahn  and  his  minions  in  Council  I  ask. 
Was  there  ever  a  Government-plccce  (with  a  pinsion) 

But  children  of  Erin  were  fit  for  that  task? 

What,  Erin  beloved,  is  thy  fetal  condition? 

What  shame  in  aych  boosom  must  rankle  and  burrun. 
To  think  that  our  countrcc  has  ne'er  a  logician 

In  the  hour  of  her  decnger  will  surrcv  her  turrun ! 

On  the  logic  of  Saxons  there's  little  reliance. 

And,  rather  from  Saxons  than  gather  its  rules, 

I'd  stamp  under  feet  the  base  l)0()k  of  his  science, 
And  spit  on  his  chair  as  he  taught  in  the  scliools ! 
185 


186  LYRA  HIBERNICA 

O  false  Sir  John  Kane  !  is  it  thus  that  you  praych  me? 

I  think  all  your  Queen's  Universitees  Bosh; 
And  if  you've  no  neetive  Professor  to  taych  me, 

I  scawurn  to  be  learned  by  the  Saxon  M'Cosh. 

There's  Wiseman  and  Chume,  and  His  Grace  the  Lord 
Primate, 

That  sinds  round  the  box,  and  the  world  will  subscribe ; 
'Tis  they'll  build  a  College  that's  fit  for  our  climate, 

And  taych  me  the  saycrets  I  burn  to  imboibe! 

'Tis  there  as  a  Student  of  Science  I'll  enther, 

Fair  Fountain  of  Knowledge,  of  Joy,  and  Contint ! 

Saint  Pathrick's  sweet  Statue  shall  stand  in  the  centher, 
And  wink  his  dear  oi  every  day  during  Lint. 

And  good  Doctor  Newman,  that  praycher  unwary, 
'Tis  he  shall  preside  the  Academee  School, 

And  quit  the  gay  robe  of  St.  Philip  of  Neri, 

To  wield  the  soft  rod  of  St.  Lawrence  O'Toole  ! 


THE    BALLADS    OF    POLICEMAN  X 


THE  WOFLE   NEW  BALLAD   OF  JANE 
RONEY  AND  MARY  BROWN 

An  igstrawnary  tail  I  vill  tell  you  this  veek — 
I  stood  in  the  Court  of  A'Beckett  the  Beak, 
Vere  Mrs.  Jane  Roney,  a  vidow,  I  see, 
Who  charged  Mary  Brown  with  a  robbin  of  she. 

This  Mary  was  pore  and  in  misery  once. 

And  she  came  to  Mrs.  Roney  it's  more  than  twelve  monce. 

She  adn't  got  no  bed,  nor  no  dinner  nor  no  tea, 

And  kind  Mrs.  Roney  gave  Mary  all  three. 

Mrs.  Roney  kep  Mary  for  ever  so  many  veeks, 
(Her  conduct  disgusted  the  best  of  all  Beax,) 
She  kep  her  for  nothink,  as  kind  as  could  be. 
Never  thinkin  that  this  Mary  was  a  traitor  to  she. 

"  Mrs.  Roney,  O  Mrs.  Roney,  I  feel  very  ill ; 

Will  you  just  step  to  the  Doctor's  for  to  fetch  me  a  pill?  " 
"  That  I  will,  my  pore  Mary,"  Mrs.  Roney  says  she; 

And  she  goes  off  to  the  Doctor's  as  quickly  as  may  be. 

187 


188  THE  BALLADS  OF  POLICEMAN  X 

No  sooner  on  this  message  Mrs.  Roney  was  sped, 
Than  hup  gits  vicked  Mary,  and  jumps  out  a  bed; 
She  hopens  all  the  trunks  without  never  a  key— 
She  bustes  all  the  boxes,  and  vith  them  makes  free. 

Mrs.  Roney's  best  linning,  gownds,  petticoats,  and  close, 
Her  children's  little  coats  and  things,  her  boots,  and  her  hose. 
She  packed  them,  and  she  stole  'em,  and  avay  vith  them  did  flee. 
Mrs.  Roney's  situation — you  may  think  vat  it  vould  be! 

Of  Mary,  ungrateful,  who  had  served  her  this  vay, 
Mrs.  Roney  heard  nothink  for  a  long  year  and  a  day. 
Till  last  Thursday,  in  Lambeth,  ven  whom  should  she  see 
But  this  Mary,  as  had  acted  so  ungrateful  to  she.'' 

She  was  leaning  on  the  helbo  of  a  worthy  young  man, 
They  were  going  to  be  married,  and  were  walkin  hand  in 

hand; 
And  the  Church  bells  was  a  ringing  for  Mary  and  he, 
And  the  parson  was  ready,  and  a  waitin  for  his  fee. 

When  up  comes  Mrs.  Roney,  and  faces  Mary  Brown, 
Who  trembles,  and  castes  her  eyes  upon  the  ground. 
She  calls  a  jolly  pleaseman,  it  happens  to  be  me; 
I  charge  this  young  woman,  Mr.  Pleaseman,  says  she. 

"  Mrs.  Roney,  o,  Mrs.  Roney,  o,  do  let  me  go, 
I  acted  most  ungrateful  I  own,  and  I  know, 
But  the  marriage  bell  is  a  ringin,  and  the  ring  you  may  see, 
And  this  young  man  is  a  waitin,"  says  Mary  says  she. 

"  I  don't  care  three  fardens  for  the  parson  and  dark. 
And  the  bell  may  keep  ringin  from  noon  day  to  dark. 
Mary  Brown,  Mary  Brown,  you  must  come  along  with  me; 
And  I  think  this  young  man  is  lucky  to  be  free." 


JANE  RONEY  AND  MARY  BROWN  189 

So,  in  spite  of  the  tears  which  bejew'd  Mary's  cheek, 
I  took  that  young  gurl  to  A'Beckett  the  Beak; 
That  exlent  Justice  demanded  her  plea — 
But  never  a  sullable  said  Mary  said  she. 

On  account  of  her  conduck  so  base  and  so  vile, 
That  wicked  young  gurl  is  committed  for  trile, 
And  if  she's  transpawtcd  beyond  the  salt  sea, 
It's  a  proper  reward  for  such  willians  as  she. 

Now  you  young  gurls  of  Southwark  for  Mary  who  veep, 
From  pickin  and  stealin  your  ands  you  must  keep, 
Or  it  may  be  my  dooty,  as  it  was  Thursday  veek, 
To  pull  you  all  hup  to  A'Beckett  the  Beak. 


THE  THREE  CHRISTMAS  WAITS 

My  name  is  Pleaceman  X ; 

Last  night  I  was  in  bed, 
A  dream  did  me  perplex. 

Which  came  into  my  Edd. 
I  dreamed  I  sor  three  Waits 

A  playing  of  their  tune. 
At  Pimlico  Palace  gates, 

All  underneath  the  moon. 
One  puffed  a  hold  French  horn, 

And  one  a  hold  Banjo, 
And  one  chap  seedy  and  torn 

A  Hirish  pipe  did  blow. 
They  sadly  piped  and  played, 

Dexcribing  of  their  fates ; 
And  this  was  what  they  said. 

Those  three  pore  Christmas  Waits:  — 


190  THE  BALLADS  OF  POLICEMAN  X 

"  When  this  black  year  began, 
This  Eighteen-forty-eight, 
I  was  a  great  great  man, 

And  king  both  vise  and  great, 
And  Munseer  Guizot  by  me  did  show 
As  Minister  of  State. 

*'  But  Febuwerry  came, 

And  brought  a  rabble  rout, 
And  me  and  my  good  dame 

And  children  did  turn  out. 
And  us,  in  spite  of  all  our  right, 

Sent  to  the  right  about. 

"  I  left  my  native  ground, 

I  left  my  kin  and  kith, 
I  left  my  royal  crownd, 

Vich  I  couldn't  travel  vith. 
And  without  a  pound  came  to  English  ground, 

In  the  name  of  Mr.  Smith. 

*'  Like  any  anchorite 

I've  lived  since  I  came  here, 
I've  kep  myself  quite  quite, 

I've  drank  the  small  small  beer. 
And  the  vater,  you  see,  disagrees  vith  me 
And  all  my  famly  dear. 

"  O  Tweeleries  so  dear, 

O  darling  Pally  Royl, 
Vas  it  to  finish  here 

That  I  did  trouble  and  toyl  ? 
That  all  my  plans  should  break  in  my  ands. 

And  should  on  me  recoil  ? 


THE  THREE  CHRISTMAS  WAITS    191 

"  My  state  I  fenced  about 

Vith  baynicks  and  vith  guns ; 
My  gals  I  portioned  hout, 

Rich  vives  I  got  my  sons ; 
O  varn't  it  crule  to  lose  my  rule, 

My  money  and  lands  at  once  ? 


*'  O  Prins,  so  brave  and  stout, 

Both  troubled  and  shagreened, 
I  bid  you  to  rejoice, 

0  glorious  England's  Queend ! 

And  never  have  to  veep,  like  pore  Louis-Phileep, 
Because  you  out  are  cleaned. 

"  O  Prins,  so  brave  and  stout, 

1  stand  before  your  gate; 
Pray  send  a  trifle  hout 

To  me,  your  pore  old  Vait; 
For  nothink  could  be  vuss  than  it's  been  along  vith  us 
In  this  year  Forty-eight.  " 

*'  Ven  this  bad  year  began,  " 

The  nex  man  said,  saysee, 
*'  I  vas  a  Journeyman, 

A  taylor  black  and  free, 
And  my  wife  went  out  and  chaired  about, 

And  my  name's  the  bold  CufFee. 

"  The  Queen  and  Halbert  both 

I  swore  I  would  confound, 
I  took  a  hawfle  hoath 

To  drag  them   to  the  ground ; 
And  scvral  more  with  me  they  swore 

Aginst  the  British  Crownd. 


192  THE  BALLADS  OF  POLICEMAN  X 

"  Aginst  her  Pleacemen  all 

We  said  we'd  try  our  strenth; 
Her  scarlick  soldiers  tall 

We  vow'd  we'd  lay  full  lenth: 
And  out  we  came,  in  Freedom's  name, 
Last  Aypril  was  the  tenth. 

**  Three  'undred  thousand  snobs 

Came  out  to  stop  the  vay, 
Vith  sticks  vith  iron  knobs, 

Or  else  we'd  gained  the  day. 
The  harmy  quite  kept  out  of  sight, 

And  so  ve  vent  avay. 

*•  Next  day  the  Pleacemen  came — 
Rewenge  it  was  their  plann  — 
And  from  my  good  old  dame 
They  took  her  tailor-mann : 
And  the  hard  hard  beak  did  me  bespeak 
To  Newgit  in  the  Wann. 

"  In  that  etrocious  Cort 

The  Jewry  did  agree ; 
The  Judge  did  me  transport, 

To  go  beyond  the  sea: 
And  so  for  life,   from  his  dear  wife 

They  took  poor  old  CufFee. 

"  O  Halbert,  Appy  Prince ! 

With  children  round  your  knees, 
Ingraving  ansum  Prints, 

And  taking  hofF  your  hease; 
O  think  of  me,  the  old  Cuffee, 

Beyond  the  solt  solt  seas  ! 


THE  THREE  CHRISTMAS  WAITS  193 

"  Although  I'm  hold  and  black, 
My  hanguish  is  most  great; 
Great  Prince,  O  call  me  back, 

And  I  vill  be  your  Vait ! 
And  never  no  more  vill  break  the  Lor, 
As  I  did  in  'Forty-eight." 

The  tailer  thus  did  close 

(A  pore  old  blacky  more  rogue), 
When  a  dismal  gent  uprose, 

And  spoke  with  Hirish  brogue: 
"  I'm  Smith  O'Brine,  of  Royal  Line, 

Descended  from  Rory  Ogue. 

"  When  great  O'Connle  died, 

That  man  whom  all  did  trust, 
That  man  whom  Henglish  pride 

Beheld  with  such  disgust. 
Then  Erin  free  fixed  eyes  on  me. 

And  swoar  I  should  be  fust. 


"  '  The  glorious  Hirish  Crown,' 

Says  she,  '  it  shall  be  thine : 
Long  time,  it's  wery  well  known, 

You  kep  it  in  your  line; 
That  diadem  of  hemerald  gem 
Is  yours,  my  Smith  O'Brine. 

"  '  Too  long  the  Saxon  churl 

Our  land  encumbered  hath; 

Arise  my  Prince,  my  Earl, 

And  brush  them  from  thy  path: 

Rise,  mighty  Smith,  and  sveep  'em  vith 
The  besom  of  your  wrath.' 


194  THE  BALLADS  OF  POLICEMAN  X 

"  Then  in  my  might  I  rose, 
Mj  country  I  surveyed, 
I  saw  it  filled  with  foes, 

I  viewed  them  undismayed; 
'  Ha,  ha ! '  says  I,  '  the  harvest's  high, 
I'll  reap  it  with  my  blade.' 

"  M3'  warriors  I  enrolled. 

They  rallied  round  their  lord; 

And  cheafs  in  council  old 
I  summoned  to  the  board — 

Wise  Doheny  and  Duffy  bold, 
And  Meagher  of  the  Sword. 

"  I  stood  on  Slievenamaun, 

They  came  with  pikes  and  bills; 

They  gathered  in  the  dawn, 
Like  mist  upon  the  hills, 

And  rushed  adown  the  mountain  side 
Like  twenty  thousand  rills. 

"  Their  fortress  we  assail ; 

Hurroo !  my  boys,  hurroo ! 
The  bloody  Saxons  quail 

To  hear  the  wild  shaloo : 
Strike,  and  prevail,  proud  Innesfail, 

O'Brine  aboo,  aboo ! 

"  Our  people  they  defied ; 

They  shot  at  'em  like  savages, 
Their  bloody  guns  they  plied 

With  sanguinary  ravages: 
Hide,  blushing  Glory,  hide 

That  day  among  the  cabbages ! 


ON  A  LATE   HOSPICIOUS  EWENT   195 

"  And  so  no  more  I'll  say, 

But  ask  your  Mussy  great, 
And  humbly  sing  and  pray, 

Your  Majesty's  poor  Wait: 
Your  Smith  O'Brine  in  'Forty-nine 

Will  blush  for  'Forty-eight." 


LINES  ON  A  LATE  HOSPICIOUS  EWENT  * 

BV    A    GENTLEMAN    OF   THE    FOOT-GUARDS    (blUE) 

I  PACED  upon  my  beat 
With  steady  step  and  slow, 
All  huppandownd  of  Ranelagh  Street; 
Ran'lagh  St.  Pinilico. 

While  marching  huppandownd 

Upon  that  fair  May  morn, 
Beold  the  booming  carmings  sound, 

A  royal  child  is  born ! 

The  Ministers  of  State 

Then  prcsnly  I  sor, 
They  gallops  to  the  Pallis  gate, 

In  carridges  and  for. 

With  anxious  looks  intent. 

Before  the  gate  they  stop, 
There  comes  the  good  Lord  President, 

And  there  the  Arohbishopp. 

1  The  birth  of  Prince  Arthur. 


196       THE  BALLADS  OF  POLICEMAN  X 

Lord  John  he  next  elights ; 

And  who  comes  here  in  haste? 
'Tis  the  ero  of  one  underd  fights, 

The  caudle  for  to  taste. 


Then  Mrs.  Lily,  the  nuss. 

Towards  them  steps  with  joy; 
Says  the  brave  old  Duke,  "  Come  tell  to  us, 

Is  it  a  gal  or  a  boy  ?  " 

Says  Mrs.  L.  to  the  Duke, 
"  Your  Grace,  it  is  a  Prince.''^ 
And  at  that  nuss's  bold  rebuke. 
He  did  both  laugh  and  wince. 

He  vews  with  pleasant  look 

This  pooty  flower  of  May, 
Then,  says  the  wenerable  Duke, 
"  Egad,  it's  my  buthday." 

By  memory  backards  borne, 

Peraps  his  thoughts  did  stray 
To  that  old  place  where  he  was  born. 

Upon  the  first  of  May. 

Perhaps  he  did  recal 

The  ancient  towers  of  Trim ; 
And  County  Meath  and  Dangan  Hall 

They  did  rewisit  him. 

I  phansy  of  him  so 

His  good  old  thoughts  employin'; 
Fourscore  years  and  one  ago 

Beside  the  flowin'  Boyne* 


ON  A  LATE  HOSPICIOUS  EWENT   197 

His  father  praps  he  sees, 

Most  musicle  of  Lords, 
A  pla^ung  maddrigles  and  glees 

Upon  the  Arpsicords. 

Jest  phansy  this  old  Ero 

Upon  his  mother's  knee ! 
Did  ever  lady  in  this  land 

Ave  greater  sons  than  she? 

And  I  shouldn  be  surprize 

While  this  was  in  his  mind, 
If  a  drop  there  twinkled  in  his  eyes 

Of  unfamiliar  brind. 


To  Hapsly  Ouse  next  day 
Drives  up  a  Broosh  and  for, 

A  gracious  prince  sits  in  that  Shay 
(I  mention  him  with  Hor!) 

They  ring  upon  the  bell, 
The  Porter  shows  his  Ed, 

(He  fought  at  Vaterloo  as  veil, 
And  vears  a  Vcskit  red). 

To  see  that  carriage  come, 
The  people  round  it  press : 
"  And  is  the  galliant  Duke  at  ome?  " 
"  Your  Royal  Ighness,  yes." 


198  THE  BALLADS  OF  POLICEMAN  X 

He  stepps  from  out  the  Broosh 

And  in  the  gate  is  gone ; 
And  X,  although  the  people  push, 

Says  wery  kind,  "  Move  hon." 

The  Royal  Prince  unto 

The  galliant  Duke  did  say, 
"  Dear  Duke,  my  little  son  and  you 
Was  born  the  self  same  day. 

"  The  Lady  of  the  land. 

My  wife  and  Sovring  dear, 
It  is  by  her  horgust  command 
I  wait  upon  you  here. 

"  That  lady  is  as  well 
As  can  expected  be; 
And  to  your  Grace  she  bid  me  tell 
This  gracious  message  free. 

*'  That  offspring  of  our  race. 
Whom  yesterday   you  see. 
To  show  our  honour  for  your  Grace, 
Prince  Arthur  he  shall  be. 

*'  That  name  it  rhymes  to  fame ; 
All  Europe  knows  the  sound: 
And  I  couldn't  find  a  better  name 
If  you'd  give  me  twenty  pound. 

"  King  Arthur  had  his  knights 
That  girt  his  table  round, 
But  you  have  won  a  hundred  fights. 
Will  match  'em  I'll  be  bound. 


ON  A  LATE  HOSPICIOUS  EWENT  199 

"  You  fought  with  Bonypart, 
And  likewise  Tippoo  Saib ; 
I  name  you  then  with  all  my  heart 
The  Godsire  of  this  babe.  " 

That  Prince  his  leave  was  took, 

His  hinterview  was  done. 
So  let  us  give  the  good  old  Duke 

Good  luck  of  his  god-son. 

And  wish  him  years  of  joy 

In  this  our  time  of  Schism, 
And  hope  he'll  hear  the  royal  boy 

His  little  catechism. 

And  my  pooty  little  Prince 
That's  come  our  arts  to  cheer, 

Let  me  my  loyal  powers  ewince 
A  welcomin  of  you  ere. 

And  the  Poit-Laureat's  crownd, 

I  think,  in  some  respex, 
Egstremely  shootable  might  be  found 

For  honest  Pleaseman  X. 


THE   BALLAD   OF  ELIZA  DAVIS 

Galliant  gents  and  lovely  ladies, 

List  a  tail  vich  late  befel, 
Vich  I  heard  it,  bein  on  duty. 

At  the   Pleace   Hoffice,   Clerkenwell. 


Praps  you  know  the  Fondling  Chapel, 
Vere  the  little  children  sings: 

(Lor!    I  likes  to  hear  on  Sundics 
Them  there  pooty  little  things!) 
goo 


THE  BALLAD  OF  ELIZA  DAVIS      201 

In  this  street  there  lived  a  housemaid, 

If  you  particklarly  ask  me  where— 
Vy,  it  vas  at  four-and-tventy 

Guilford  Street,  by  Brunsvick  Square. 

Vich  her  name  was  Eliza  Davis, 

And  she  went  to  fetch  the  beer: 
In  the  street  she  met  a  party 

As  was  quite  surprized  to  see  her. 

Vich  he  vas  a  British  Sailor, 

For  to  judge  him  by  his  look: 
Tarry  jacket,  canvass  trowsies, 

Ha-la  Mr.  T.  P.  Cooke. 

Presently  this  Mann  accostes 
Of  this  hinnocent  young  gal— 
"  Pray,"  saysee,  "  excuse  my  freedom, 
You're  so  like  my  Sister  Sal ! 

"You're  so  like  my  Sister  Sally, 
Both  in  valk  and  face  and  size. 
Miss,  that— dang  my  old  lee  scuppers, 
It  brings  tears  into  my  heyes ! 

"  I'm  a  mate  on  board  a  wessel, 
I'm  a  sailor  bold  and  true ; 
Shiver  up  my  poor  old  timbers, 
Let  me  be  a  mate  for  you! 

"  What's  your  name,  my  beauty,  tell  me ; " 
And  she  faintly  hansers,  "  Lore, 
Sir,  my  name's  Eliza  Davis, 
And  I  live  at  tventy-four." 


202  THE  BALLADS  OF  POLICEMAN   X 

Hofttimes  came  this  British  seaman, 

This  deluded  gal  to  meet ; 
And  at  tventy-four  was  welcome, 

Tventy-four  in  Guilford  Street. 

And  Eliza  told  her  Master 

(Kinder  they  than  Missuses  are), 

How  in  marridge  he  had  ast  her. 
Like  a  gailiant  Brittish  Tar. 

And  he  brought  his  landlad}'  vith  him, 

(Vich  vas  all  his  hartful  plan), 
And  she  told  how  Charley  Thompson 

Reely  vas  a  good  young  man. 

And  how  she  herself  had  lived  in 

Many  years  of  union  sweet, 
Vith  a  gent  she  met  promiskous, 

Valkin  in  the  public  street. 

And  Eliza  listened  to  them. 

And  she  thought  that  soon  their  bands 

Vould  be  published  at  the  Fondlin, 

Hand  the  clergyman  jine  their  ands. 

And  he  ast  about  the  lodgers, 

(Vich  her  master  let  some  rooms), 

Likevise  vere  they  kep  their  things,  and 
Vere  her  master  kep  his  spoons. 

Hand  this  vicked  Charley  Thompson 
Came  on  Sundy  veek  to  see  her; 

And  he  sent  Eliza  Davis 

Hout  to  fetch  a  pint  of  beer. 


THE   BALLAD   OF   ELIZA  DAVIS      203 

Hand  while  pore  Eliza  vent  to 

Fetch  the  beer,  dewoid  of  sin, 
This  etrocious  Charley  Thompson 

Let  his  wile  accomplish  hin. 

To  the  lodgers,  their  apartments, 

This  abandingd  female  goes, 
Prigs  their  shirts  and  umberellas ; 

Prigs  their  boots,  and  hats,  and  clothes. 

Vile  the  scoundrle  Charley  Thompson, 

Lest  his  wictim  should  escape, 
Hocust  her  vith  rum  and  vater. 

Like  a  fiend  in  burning  shape. 

But  a  hi  was  fixt  upon  'em 

Vich  these  raskles  little  sore; 
Namely,  Mr.  Hide,  the  landlord 

Of  the  house  at  tventj'-four. 

He  vas  valkin  in  his  garden, 

Just  afore  he  vent  to  sup ; 
And  on  looking  up  he  sor  the 

Lodgers'  vinders  lighted  hup. 

Hup  the  stairs  the  landlord  tumbled ; 

Something's  going  wrong,  he  said; 
And  he  caught  the  vicked  voman 

Underneath  the  lodgers'  bed. 

And  he  called  a  brother  Pleaseman, 

Vich  vas  passing  on  his  beat ; 
Like  a  true  and  galliant  feller, 

Hup  and  down  in  Guilford  Street. 


204      THE  BALLADS  OF  POLICEMAN  X 

And  that  Pleaseman  able-bodied 

Took  this  voman  to  the  cell ; 
To  the  cell  vere  she  was  quodded, 

In  the  Close  of  Clerkenwell. 

And  though  vicked  Charley  Thompson 

Boulted  like  a  miscrant  base, 
Presently  another  Pleaseman 

Took  him  to  the  self-same  place. 

And  this  precious  pair  of  raskles 
Tuesday  last  came  up  for  doom; 

By  the  beak  they  was  committed, 
Vich  his  name  was  Mr.  Combe. 

Has  for  poor  Eliza  Davis, 

Simple  gurl  of  tventy-four, 
She,  I  ope,  vill  never  listen 

In  the  streets  to  sailors  nioar. 

But  if  she  must  ave  a  sweet-art, 

(Vich  most  every  gurl  expex,) 
Let  her  take  a  jolly  pleaseman ; 

Vich  his  name  peraps  is — X. 


DAMAGES,  TWO  HUNDRED  POUNDS 

Special  Jurymen  of  England !  who  admire  your  country's  laws, 
And  proclaim  a  British  Jury  worthy  of  the  realm's  applause; 
Gaily  compliment  each  other  at  the  issue  of  a  cause 
Which  was  tried  at  Guildford  'sizes,  this  day  week  as  ever  was. 

Unto  that  august  tribunal  comes  a  gentleman  in  grief, 

(Special  was  the  British  Jury,  and  the  Judge,  the  Baron  Chief,) 

Comes  a  British  man  and  husband — asking  of  the  law  relief. 

For  his  wife  was  stolen  from  him — he'd  have  vengeance  on  the  thief. 

Yes,  his  wife,  the  blessed  treasure  with  the  which  his  life  was 

crowned. 
Wickedly  was  ravished  from  him  by  a  hypocrite  profound. 
And  he  comes  before  twelve  Britons,  men  for  sense  and  truth 

renowned. 
To  award  him  for  his  damage,  twenty  hundred  sterling  pound. 

He  by  counsel  and  attorney  there  at  Guildford  does  appear, 

Asking  damage  of  the  villain  who  seduced  his  lady  dear: 

But  I  can't  help  asking,  though  the  lady's  guilt  was  all  too  clear, 

And  though  guilty  the  defendant,  wasn't  the  plaintiff  rather  queer? 

First  the  lady's  mother  spoke,  and  said  she'd  seen  her  daughter  cry 
But  a  fortnight  after  marriage :  early  times  for  piping  eye. 
Six  months  after,  things  were  worse,  and  the  piping  eye  was  black, 
And  this  gallant  British  husband  caned  his  wife  upon  the  back. 

205 


206  THE  BALLADS  OF  POLICEMAN   X 

Three  months  after  they  were  married,  husband  pushed  her  to 

the  door, 
Told  her  to  be  off  and  leave  him,  for  he  wanted  her  no  more. 
As  she  would  not  go,  why  he  went:  thrice  he  left  his  lady  dear; 
Left  her,  too,  without  a  penny,  for  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  year. 

Mrs.  Frances  Duncan  knew  the  parties  very  well  indeed, 

She  had  seen  him  pull  his  lady's  nose  and  make  her  lip  to  bleed ; 

If  he  chanced  to  sit  at  home  not  a  single  word  he  said : 

Once  she  saw  him  throw  the  cover  of  a  dish  at  his  lady's  head. 

Sarah  Green,  another  witness,  clear  did  to  the  jury  note 
How  she  saw  this  honest  fellow  seize  his  lady  by  the  throat. 
How  he  cursed  her  and  abused  her,  beating  her  into  a  fit. 
Till    the    pitying    next-door    neighbours    crossed    the    wall    and 
witnessed  it. 

Next  door  to  this  injured  Briton  Mr.  Owers  a  butcher  dwelt; 
Mrs.  Owers's  foolish  heart  towards  this  erring  dame  did  melt ; 
(Not  that  she  had  erred  as  yet,  crime  Avas  not  developed  in  her), 
But  being  left  without  a  penny,  Mrs.  Owers  supplied  her  dinner — 
God  be  merciful  to  Mrs.  Owers,  who  was  merciful  to  this  sinner ! 

Caroline  Najdor  was  their  servant,  said  they  led  a  wretched  life, 
Saw  this  most  distinguished  Briton  fling  a  teacup  at  his  wife ; 
He    went    out    to    balls    and    pleasures,  and    never  once,  in  ten 

months'  space. 
Sat  with  his  wife  or  spoke  her  kindly.     This  was  the  defendant's 

case. 

Pollock,  C.  B.,  charged  the  Jury;  said  the  woman's  guilt  was  clear: 
That  was  not  the  point,  however,  which  the  Jury  came  to  hear ; 
But  the  damage  to  determine  which,  as  it  should  true  appear, 
This  most  tender-hearted  husband,  who  so  used  his  lady  dear — 


DAJNIAGES,  TWO  HUNDRED  POUNDS  207 

Beat  her,  kicked  her,  caned  her,  cursed  her,  left  her  starving, 

year  by  year. 
Flung  her  from  him,  parted   from  her,   wrung  her  neck,  and 

boxed  her  ear — 
What  the  reasonable  damage  this  afflicted  man  could  claim, 
By  the  loss  of  the  affections  of  this  guilty  graceless  dame? 

Then  the  honest  British  Twelve,  to  each  other  turning  round. 
Laid  their  clever  heads  together  with  a  wisdom  most  profound: 
And  towards  his  Lordship  looking,  spoke  the  foreman  wise  and 

sound ;  — 
"  My  Lord,  we  find  for  this  here  plaintiff,  damages  two  hundred 

pound." 

So,  God    bless    the  Special  Jury!    pride    and    joy    of    English 

ground. 
And  the  happy  land  of  England,  where  true  justice  does  abound ! 
British  jurymen  and  husbands,  let  us  hail  this  verdict  proper: 
If  a  British  wife  offends  you,  Britons,  you've  a  right  to  whop 

her. 

Though  you  promised  to  protect  her,  though  you  promised  to 
defend  her. 

You  are  welcome  to  neglect  her:  to  the  devil  you  may  send  her: 

You  may  strike  her,  curse,  abuse  her;  so  declares  our  law  re- 
nowned ; 

And  if  after  this  you  lose  her,— why,  you're  paid  two  hundred 
pound. 


THE  KNIGHT  AND  THE  LADY 

There's  In  the  Vest  a  city  pleasant 
To  vich  King  Bladud  gev  his  name, 

And  in  that  city  there's  a  Crescent 
Vere  dwelt  a  noble  knight  of  fame. 

Although  that  galliant  knight  is  oldish, 
Although  Sir  John  as  grey,  grey  air, 

Hage  has  not  made  his  busum  coldish, 
His  Art  still  beats  tewodds  the  Fair ! 

'Twas  two  years  sins,  this  knight  so  splendid, 
Peraps  fateagued  with  Bath's  routines. 

To  Paris  towne  his  phootsteps  bended 
In  sutch  of  gayer  folks  and  seans. 

His  and  was  free,  his  means  was  easy, 

A  nobler,  finer  gent  than  he 
Ne'er  drove  about  the  Shons-Eleesy, 

Or  paced  the  Roo  de  Rivolee. 

A  brougham  and  pair  Sir  John  prowided. 
In  which  abroad  he  loved  to  ride; 

But  ar!  he  most  of  all  enjyed  it. 

When  some  one  helse  was  sittin'  inside! 

That  "  some  one  helse  "  a  lovely  dame  was, 
Dear  ladies,  you  will  heasy  tell— 

Countess  Grabrowski  her  sweet  name  was^ 
A  noble  title,  ard  to  spell. 


THE  KNIGHT  AND  THE  LADY      209 

This  fajmus  Countess  ad  a  daughter 

Of  lovely  form  and  tender  art ; 
A  nobleman  in  marridge  sought  her, 

By  name  the  Baron  of  Saint  Bart. 

Their  pashn  touched  the  noble  Sir  John, 

It  was  so  pewer  and  profound; 
Lady  Grabrowski  he  did  urge  on 

With  Hyming's  wreeth  their  loves  to  crownd. 

"  O,  come  to  Bath,  to  Lansdowne  Crescent," 
Says  kind  Sir  John,  "  and  live  with  me ; 
The  living  there's  uncommon  pleasant — 
I'm  sure  you'll  find  the  hair  agree. 

*'  O,  come  to  Bath,  my  fair  Grabrowski, 

And  bring  your  charming  girl,"  sezee; 

*'  The  Barring  here  shall  have  the  ouse-key, 
Vith  breakfast,  dinner,  lunch,  and  tea. 

"  And  when  they've  passed  an  appy  winter. 
Their  opes  and  loves  no  more  we'll  bar; 
The  marridge-vow  they'll  enter  inter, 
And  I  at  church  will  be  their  Par." 

To  Bath  they  went  to  Lansdowne  Crescent, 
Where  good  Sir  John  he  did  provide 

No  end  of  teas  and  balls  incessant, 
And  bosses  both  to  drive  and  ride. 

He  was  so  Ospitably  busy. 

When  Miss  was  late,  he'd  make  so  bold 
Upstairs  to  call  out,  "  INIissy,  Missy, 

fJome  down,  the  coffy's  getting  cold !  " 


210  THE  BALLADS  OF  POLICEMAN  X 

But  0!  'tis  sadd  to  think  such  bounties 
Should  meet  with  such  return  as  this; 

O  Barring  of  Saint  Bart,  O  Countess 
Grabrowski,  and  O  cruel  Miss! 

He  married  you  at  Bath's  fair  Habby, 
Saint  Bart  he  treated  like  a  son — 

And  wasn't  it  uncommon  shabby 

To  do  what  you  have  went  and  done! 

My  trembling  And  amost  refewses 

To  write  the  charge  which  Sir  John  swore, 

Of  which  the  Countess  he  ecuses, 
Her  daughter  and  her  son-in-lore. 

My  Mews  quite  blushes  as  she  sings  of 
The  f atle  charge  which  now  I  quote : 

He  says  Miss  took  his  two  best  rings  oif, 
And  pawned  'em  for  a  tenpun  note. 

"  Is  this  the  child  of  honest  parince, 

To  make  away  with  folks'  best  things? 
Is  this,  pray,  like  the  wives  of  Barrins, 
To  go  and  prig  a  gentleman's  rings  ?  " 

Thus  thought  Sir  John,  by  anger  wrought  on, 
And  to  rewenge  his  injured  cause, 

He  brought  them  hup  to  Mr.  Broughton, 
Last  Vensday  veek  as  ever  waws. 

If  guiltless,  how  she  have  been  slandered! 

If  guilty,  wengeance  will  not  fail : 
Meanwhile  the  lady  is  remanded 

And  gev  three  hundred  pouns  in  bail. 


JACOB  HOMNIUM'S  HOSS 

A    NEW    PALLICE    COURT    CHAUNT 

NE   sees  in  Viteall  Yard, 

Vere  pleacemen  do  resort, 
A  wenerable  hinstitute, 

'Tis  call'd  the  PalHs  Court. 
A  gent  as  got  his  i  on  it, 

I  think  'twill  make  some  sport. 

The  natur  of  this  Court 

My  hindignation  riles: 
A  few  fat  legal  spiders 

Here  set  &  spin  their  viles; 
To  rob  the  town  theyr  privlege  is, 

In  a  hayrea  of  twelve  miles. 


The  Judge  of  this  year  Court 

Is  a  mellitary  beak, 
He  knows  no  more  of  Lor 

Than  praps  he  does  of  Greek, 
And  prowides  hissclf  a  deputy 

Because  he  cannot  speak. 

Four  counsel  in  this  Court — 
Misnamed  of  Justice — sits; 

These  lawyers  owes  their  places  to 
Their  money,  not  their  wits ; 

And  there's  six  attornies  under  them. 
As  here  their  living  gits. 
211 


212      THE  BALLADS  OF  POLICEMAN  X 

These  lawyers,  six  and  four, 

Was  a  livin  at  their  ease, 
A  sendin  of  their  writs  abowt, 

And  di'oring  in  the  fees. 
When  their  erose  a  cirkimstance 

As  is  Hke  to  make  a  breeze. 


It  now  is  some  monce  since, 
A  gent  both  good  and  trew 

Possest  an  ansum  oss  vith  vich 
He  didn  know  what  to  do: 

Peraps  he  did  not  Hke  the  oss, 
Peraps  he  was  a  scru. 

This  gentleman  his  oss 

At  Tattersall's  did  lodge; 

There  came  a  wulgar  oss-dealer, 

This  gentleman's  name  did  fodge, 

And  took  the  oss  from  Tattersall's : 
Wasn  that  a  artful  dodge? 

One  day  this  gentleman's  groom 

This  willain  did  spy  out, 
A  mounted  on  this  oss 

A  ridin  him  about ; 
Get  out  of  that  there  oss,  you  rogue," 

Speaks  up  the  groom  so  stout. 

The  thief  was  cruel  whex'd 

To  find  himself  so  pinn'd ; 
The  oss  began  to  whinny, 

The  honest  groom  he  grinn'd ; 
And  the  raskle  thief  got  off  the  oss 

And  cut  avay  like  vind. 


JACOB  HOMNIUM'S  HOSS  213 

And  phansy  with  what  joy 

The  master  did  regard 
His  dearly  bluvd  lost  oss  again 

Trot  in  the  stable  yard ! 


Who  was  this  master  good 

Of  whonib  I  makes  these  rhymes? 
His  name  is  Jacob  Homnium,  Exquire; 

And  if  /'d  committed  crimes, 
Good  Lord !    I  wouldn't  ave  that  mann 

Attack  me  in  the  Times  ! 


Now  shortly  after  the  groomb 
His  master's  oss  did  take  up, 

There  came  a  livery-man 

This  gentleman  to  wake  up ; 

And  he  handed  in  a  little  bill. 
Which  hangered  Mr.  Jacob. 


For  two  pound  seventeen 

This  livery-man  eplied, 
For  the  keep  of  Mr.  Jacob's  oss, 

Which  the  thief  had  took  to  ride. 
"  Do  you  see  anythink  green  in  me?  " 

Mr,  Jacob  Homnium  cried. 


"  Because  a  raskle  chews 
My  oss  away  to  robb, 
And  goes  tick  at  your  Mews 
For  seven-and-fifty  bobb. 
Shall  /  be  call'd  to  pay?  — It  is 
A  iniquitious  Jobb." 


214  THE   BALLADS   OF   POLICEMAN  X 

Thus  Mr.  Jacob  cut 

The  conwasation  short; 
The  Hvery-man  went  ome, 

Detummingd  to  ave  sport, 
And  summingsd  Jacob  Homnium,  Exquire, 

Into  the  PalHs  Court. 


Pore  Jacob  went  to  Court, 

A  Counsel  for  to  fix, 
And  choose  a  barrister  out  of  the  four. 

An  attorney  of  the  six : 
And  there  he  sor  these  men  of  Lor, 

And  watch'd  'em  at  their  tricks. 

The  dreadful  day  of  trile 

In  the  Pallis  Court  did  come; 

The  lawyers  said  their  say, 
The  Judge  look'd  wery  glum, 

And  then  the  British  Jury  cast 
Pore  Jacob  Hom-ni-um. 

O  a  weary  day  was  that 
For  Jacob  to  go  through; 

The  debt  was  two  seventeen 

(Which  he  no  mor  owed  than  you). 

And  then  there  was  the  plaintives  costs. 
Eleven  pound  six  and  two. 

And  then  there  was  his  own, 
Which  the  lawyers  they  did  fix 

At  the  wery  moderit  figgar 
Of  ten  pound  one  and  six. 

Now  Evins  bless  the  Pallis  Court, 
And  all  its  bold  ver-dicks ! 


JACOB    HOMXIUM'S    HOSS  215 

I  cannot  settingly  tell 

If  Jacob  swaw  and  cust, 
At  aving  for  to  pay  this  sumb; 

But  I  should  think  he  must, 
And  av  drawn  a  cheque  for  £24  4*.  8d. 

With  most  igstreme  disgust. 

O  Pallis  Court,  you  move 

My  pitty  most  profound. 
A  most  emusing  sport 

You  thought  it,  I'll  be  bound, 
To  saddle  hup  a  three-pound  debt, 

With  two-and-twenty  pound. 

Good  sport  it  is  to  you 

To  grind  the  honest  pore. 
To  pay  their  just  or  unjust  debts 

With  eight  hundred  per  cent,  for  Lor; 
Make  haste  and  get  your  costes  in, 

They  will  not  last  much  mor ! 

Come  down  from  that  tribewn, 

Thou  shameless  and  Unjust; 
Thou  Swindle,  picking  pockets  in 

The  name  of  Truth   august: 
Come  down,  thou  hoary  Blasphemy, 

For  die  thou  shalt  and  must 

And  go  it,  Jacob  Homnium, 

And  ply  your  iron  pen. 
And  rise  up.  Sir  John  Jervis, 

And  shut  me  up  that  den ; 
That  sty  for  fattening  lawyers  in, 

On  the  bones  of  honest  men. 

Pleaceman  X. 


THE   SPECULATORS 

The  night  was  stormy  and  dark,  The  town  was  shut  up  in 
sleep :  Only  those  were  abroad  who  were  out  on  a  lark,  Or  those 
who'd  no  beds  to  keep. 

I  pass'd  through  the  lonel}^  street,  The  wind  did  sing  and 
blow ;    I  could  hear  the  policeman's  feet    Clapping  to  and  fro. 

There  stood  a  potato-man  In  the  midst  of  all  the  wet ;  He 
stood  with  his  'tato-can    In  the  lonely  Haymarket. 

Two  gents  of  dismal  mien.  And  dank  and  greasy  rags. 
Came  out  of  a  shop  for  gin,    Swaggering  over  the  flags : 

Swaggering  over  the  stones.  These  shabby  bucks  did  walk ; 
And  I  went  and  followed  those  seedy  ones.  And  listened  to  their 
talk. 

Was  I  sober  or  awake .f*  Could  I  believe  m}'  ears.''  Those 
dismal  beggars  spake     Of  nothing  but  railroad  shares. 

I  wondered  more  and  more:  Says  one — "Good  friend  of 
mine,  How  many  shares  have  you  wrote  for.  In  the  Diddlesex 
Junction  line.''  " 

"  I  wrote  for  twenty,"  sa3-s  Jim,  "  But  they  wouldn't  give  me 
one ;  "  His  comrade  straight  rebuked  him  For  the  folly  he  had 
done: 

"  O  Jim,  you  are  unawares  Of  the  ways  of  this  bad  town ;  / 
alwaj's  write  for  five  hundred  shares.  And  then  they  put  me 
down." 

216 


A  WOEFUL  NEW  BALLAD  217 

"  And  yet  you  got  no  shares,"  Sa^-s  Jim,  "  for  all  your 
boast ;  "  "I  xcould  have  wrote,"  says  Jack,  '"  but  where  Was 
the  penny  to  pay  the  post  ?  " 

"  I  lost,  for  I  couldn't  pay  That  first  instalment  up ;  But 
here's  'taters  smoking  hot— I  say,  Let's  stop,  my  boy,  and 
sup." 

And  at  this  simple  feast  The  while  they  did  regale,  I  drew 
each  ragged  capitalist     Down  on  my  left  thumb-nail. 

Their  talk  did  me  perplex.  All  night  I  tumbled  and  tost, 
And  thought  of  railroad  specs.  And  how  money  was  won  and 
lost. 

"  Bless  railroads  everywhere,"  I  said,  "  and  the  world's  ad- 
vance ;  Bless  every  railroad  share  In  Italy,  Ireland,  France ; 
For  never  a  beggar  need  now  despair,  And  ever^'  rogue  has  a 
chance.  " 


A  WOEFUL  NEW  BALLAD 

OF  THE 

PROTESTANT  CONSPIRACY  TO  TAKE  THE  POPE'S  LIFE 

(by   A    GEXTLEMAX    WHO    HAS    BEEN    OK    THE    SPOt) 

Come  all  3'c  Christian  people,  unto  my  tale  give  ear, 

'Tis  about  a  base  conspcrracy,  as  quickly  shall  appear ; 

'Twill  make  your  hair  to  bristle  up,  and  your  eyes  to  start  and 

glow 
When  of  this  dread  consperracy  you  honest  folks  shall  know. 


218  THE  BALLADS  OF  POLICEMAN   X 

The  news  of  this  consperracy  and  viUianous  attempt, 

I  read  it  in  a  newspaper,  from  Italy  it  was  sent: 

It  was  sent  from  lovely  Italy,  where  the  olives  they  do  grow, 

And  our  Holy  Father  lives,  yes,  yes,  while  his  name  it  is  No  no. 

And  'tis  there  our  English  noblemen  goes  that  is  Puseyites  no  longer, 
Because  they  finds  the  ancient  faith  both  better  is  and  stronger. 
And  'tis  there  I  knelt  beside  my  lord  when  he  kiss'd  the  Pope  his 
And  hung  his  neck  with  chains  at  Saint  Peter's  Vinculo.         [toe, 

And  'tis  there  the  splendid  churches  is,  and  the  fountains  play- 
ing grand, 
And  the  palace  of  Prince  Tori^onia,  likewise  the  Vatican ; 
And  there's  the  stairs  where  the  bagpipe-men  and  the  pifFararys  blow. 
And  it's  there  I  drove  my  lady  and  lord  in  the  Park  of  Pincio. 

And  'tis  there  our  splendid  churches  is  in  all  their  pride  and  glory, 
Saint  Peter's  famous  Basilisk  and  Saint  Mary's  Maggiory; 
And  them  benighted  Prodestants,  on  Sunday  they  must  go 
Outside  the  town  to  the  preaching-shop  by  the  gate  of  Popolo. 

Now  in  this  town  of  famous  Room,  as  I  dessay  you  have  heard, 

There  is  scarcely  any  gentleman  as  hasn't  got  a  beard. 

And  ever  since  the  world  began  it  was  ordained  so. 

That  there  should  always  barbers  be  wheresumever  beards  do  grow. 

And  as  it  alwa3's  has  been  so  since  the  world  it  did  begin, 
The  Pope,  our  Holy  Potentate,  has  a  beard  upon  his  chin ; 
And  every  morning  regular  when  cocks  begin  to  crow. 
There  comes  a  certing  party  to  wait  on  Pope  Pio. 

There  comes  a  certing  gintlcman  with  razier,  soap,  and  lather, 
A  shaving  most  respectfully  the  Pope,  our  Holy  Father. 
And  now  the  dread  consperracy  I'll  quickly  to  you  show. 
Which  them  sanguinary  Prodestants  did  form  against  NoNO. 


A  WOEFUL  NEW  BALLAD  219 

Them  sanguinary  Prodcstants,  which  I  abore  and  hate, 
Assembled  in  the  preaching-shop  by  the  Flaminian  gate; 
And  they  took  counsel  with  their  selves  to  deal  a  deadly  blow 
Against  our  gentle  Father,  the  Holy  Pope  Pig. 

Exhibiting  a  wickedness  which  I  never  heerd  or  read  of; 
What  do  you  think  them  Prodestants  wished?  to  cut  the  good 

Pope's  head  off! 
And  to  the  kind  Pope's  Air-dresser  the  Prodestant  Clark  did  go, 
And  proposed  him  to  decapitate  the  innocent  Pio. 

"  What  hever  can  be  easier,"  said  this  Clerk — this  Man  of  Sin, 
"  When  you  are  called  to  hoperate  on  His  Hollncss's  chin, 
Than  just  to  give  the  razler  a  little  slip — just  so?  — 
And  there's  an  end,  dear  barber,  of  innocent  Pio  !  " 

This  wicked  conversation  it  chanced  was  overerd 

By  an  Italian  lady ;    she  heard  it  every  word : 

Which  b}'  birth  she  was  a  Marchioness,  in  service  forced  to  go 

With  the  parson  of  the  preaching-shop  at  the  gate  of  Popolo. 

When  the  lady  heard  the  news,  as  duty  did  obleege, 
As  fast  as  her  legs  could  carry  her  she  ran  to  the  Poleege. 
"  O  Polcgia,"  says  she  (for  they  pronounts  it  so), 
"  They're  going  for  to  massyker  our  Holy  Pope  Pio. 

"  The  cbomminable  Englishmen,  the  Parsing  and  his  Clark, 
His  Holiness's  Air-dresser  devised  it  in  the  dark ! 
And  I  would  recommend  you  in  prison  for  to  throw 
These  villlans  would  esassinate  the  Holy  Pope  Pig  ! 

"  And  for  saving  of  His  Holiness  and  his  trcbble  crownd 
I  humbly  hope  your  Worships  will  give  me  a  few  pound; 
Because  I  was  a  ]\IarchIoness  many  years  ago. 
Before  I  came  to  service  at  the  gate  of  Popolo." 


220      THE   BALLADS   OF   POLICEMAN  X 

That  sackreligious  Alr-drcsser,  the  Parson  and  his  man, 
Wouldn't,  though  ask'd  continyally,  own  their  wicked  plan — 
And  so  the  kind  Authoraties  let  those  villians  go 
That  was  plotting  of  the  murder  of  the  good  Pio  Nono. 

Now  isn't  this  safishnt  proof,  ye  gentlemen  at  home. 

How  wicked  is  them  Prodestants,  and  how  good  our  Pope  at 

Rome ; 
So  let  us  drink  confusion  to  Lord  John  and  Lord  Minto, 
And  a  health  unto  His  Eminence,  and  good  Pio  Nono. 


THE  LAMENTABLE  BALLAD  OF  THE 
FOUNDLING  OF  SHOREDITCH 

Come  all  ye  Christian  people,  and  listen  to  my  tail, 

It  is  all  about  a  doctor  was  travelling  by  the  rail, 

By  the  Heastern   Counties'  Railway    (vich  the  shares  I  don't 

desire). 
From  Ixworth  town  in  Suffolk,  vich  his  name  did  not  transpire. 


A  travelling  from  Bury  this  Doctor  was  employed 

With  a  gentleman,  a  friend  of  his,  vich  his  name  was  Captain 

Loyd, 
And  on  reaching  Marks  Tey  Station,  that  is  next  beyond  Colchest- 
er, a  lady  entered  in  to  them  most  elegantly  dressed. 

221 


222  THE   BALLADS   OF   POLICEMAN   X 

She  entered  into  the  Carriage  all  with  a  tottering  step, 
And  a  pooty  little  Bajby  upon  her  bussum  slep ; 
The  gentlemen  received  her  with  kindness  and  siwillaty, 
Pitying  this  lady  for  her  illness  and  debillaty. 


She  had  a  fust-class  ticket,  this  lovely  lady  said, 
Because  it  was  so  lonesome  she  took  a  secknd  instead. 
Better  to  travel  by  secknd  class,  than  sit  alone  in  the  fust, 
And  the  pooty  little  Baby  upon  her  breast  she  nust. 


A  seein  of  her  cryin,  and  shiverin  and  pail. 
To  her  spoke  this  surging,  the  Ero  of  my  tail; 
Saysee  you  look  unwell.  Ma'am,  I'll  elp  you  if  I  can, 
And  you  may  tell  your  case  to  me,  for  I'm  a  meddicle  man. 


Thank  you.  Sir,  "  the  lady  said,  "  I  only  look  so  pale, 
Because  I  ain't  accustom'd  to  travelling  on  the  Rale ; 
I  shall  be  better  presnly,  when  I've  ad  some  rest :  " 
And  that  pooty  little  Baby  she  squeeged  it  to  her  breast. 


So  in  conwersation  the  journey  they  beguiled, 

Capting  Loyd  and  the  meddicle  man,  and  the  lady  and  the 

child. 
Till  the  warious  stations  along  the  line  was  passed, 
For  even  the  Heastern  Counties'  trains  must  come  in  at  last. 


When  at  Shoreditch  tumminus  at  lenth  stopped  the  train, 
This  kind  meddicle  gentleman  proposed  his  aid  again. 
"  Thank  you,  Sir,  "  the  lady  said,  "  for  your  kyindness  dear ; 
My  carridge  and  my  osses  is  probibbly  come  here. 


THE  FOUNDLING  OF  SHOREDITCH  223 

"  Will  3'ou  old  this  baby,  please,  vilst  I  step  and  see?  " 
The  Doctor  was  a  famly  man :   "  That  I  will,"  says  he. 
Then  the  little  child  she  kist,  kist  it  very  gently, 
Vich  was  sucking  his  little  fist,  sleeping  innocently. 


With  a  sigh  from  her  art,  as  though  she  would  have  bust  it. 
Then  she  gave  the  Doctor  the  child — wery  kind  he  nust  it: 
Hup  then  the  lady  jumped  hofF  the  bench  she  sat  from, 
Tumbled  down  the  carridge  steps  and  ran  along  the  platform. 


Vile  hall  the  other  passengers  vent  upon  their  vays, 
The  Capting  and  the  Doctor  sat  there  in  a  maze; 
Some  vent  in  a  Homminibus,  some  vent  in  a  Cabby, 
The  Capting  and  the  Doctor  vaited  vith  the  babby. 


There  they  sat  looking  queer,  for  an  hour  or  more, 
But  their  feller  passinger  neather  on  'em  sore: 
Never,  never  back  again  did  that  lady  come 
To  that  pooty  sleeping  Hinfnt  a  suckin  of  his  Thum! 


What  could  this  pore  Doctor  do,  bein  treated  thus, 

When  the  darling  Baby  woke,  cry  in  for  its  nuss? 

Off  he  drove  to  a  female  friend,  vich  she  was  both  kind  and 

mild. 
And   igsplained  to  her  the  circumstance  of  this  year  little 

child. 


That  kind  lady  took  the  child  instantly  in  her  lap, 
And  made  it  very  comfortable  by  giving  it  some  pap; 
And  when  she  took  its  close  off,  what  d'you  think  she  found? 
A  couple  of  ten  pun  notes  sewn  up,  in  its  little  gownd ! 


224      THE   BALLADS   OF  POLICEMAN  X 

Also  in  its  little  close,  was  a  note  which  did  conwey, 

That  this  little  baby's  parents  lived  in  a  handsome  way 

And  for  its  Headucation  they  reglarly  would  pay, 

And  sirtingly  like  gentlefolks  would  claim  the  child  one  day, 

If  the  Christian  people  who'd  charge  of  it  would  say. 

Per  adwertisement  in  The  Times  where  the  baby  lay. 


Pity  of  this  bayby  many  people  took. 

It  had  such  pooty  ways  and  such  a  pooty  look ; 

And  there  came  a  lady  forrard  (I  wish  that  I  could  see 

Any  kind  lady  as  would  do  as  much  for  me ; 


And  I  wish  with  all  my  art,  some  night  in  my  night  gownd, 
I  could  find  a  note  stitched  for  ten  or  twenty  pound)  — 
There  came  a  lady  forrard,  that  most  honorable  did  say, 
She'd  adopt  this  little  baby,  which  her  parents  cast  away. 

While  the  Doctor  pondered  on  this  hofFer  fair. 
Comes  a  letter  from  Devonshire,  from  a  party  there, 
Hordering  the  Doctor,  at  its  Mar's  desire. 
To  send  the  little  Infant  back  to  Devonshire. 


Lost  in  apoplexity,  this  pore  meddicle  man, 
Like  a  sensable  gentleman,  to  the  Justice  ran; 
Which  his  name  was  Mr.  Hammill,  a  honorable  beak. 
That  takes  his  seat  in  Worship  Street  four  times  a  week. 


"  O  Justice !  "  says  the  Doctor,  "  instrugt  me  what  to  do, 
I've  come  up  from  the  country,  to  throw  myself  on  you; 
My  patients  have  no  doctor  to  tend  them  in  their  ills, 
(There  they  are  in  Suffolk  without  their  draff ts  and  pills!) 


THE  FOUXDLING  OF  SHOREDITCH  225 

"  I've  come  up  from  the  country,  to  know  how  I'll  dispose 
Of  this  pore  little  baby,  and  the  twenty  pun  note,  and  the 

close, 
And  I  want  to  go  back  to  Suffolk,  dear  Justice,  if  you  please, 
And  my  patients  wants  their  Doctor,  and  their  Doctor  wants 

his  feez." 

Up  spoke  Mr.  Hammill,  sittin  at  his  desk, 
"  This  year  application  does  me  much  perplesk ; 
What  I  do  adwise  you,  is  to  leave  this  babby 
In  the  Parish  where  it  was  left,  by  its  mother  shabby." 

The  Doctor  from  his  Worship  sadly  did  depart — 
He  might  have  left  the  baby,  but  he  hadn't  got  the  heart 
To  go  for  to  leave  that  Hinnocent,  has  the  laws  allows, 
To  the  tender  mussies  of  the  Union  House. 

INIother,  who  left  this  little  one  on  a  stranger's  knee. 
Think  how  cruel  3'ou  have  been,  and  how  good  was  he! 
Think,  if  you've  been  guilty,  innocent  was  she; 
And  do  not  take  unkindly  this  little  word  of  me: 
Heaven  be  merciful  to  us  all,  sinners  as  we  be ! 


THE  ORGAX-BOY'S  APPEAL 


"  Westmivster  Police  Court.— Poi.icemav  X  brought  a  paper  of  doggerel 
verses  to  the  Magistrate,  which  had  been  thrust  into  his  hands,  X  said,  by  an 
Itahan  boy,  who  ran  away  immediately  afterwards. 

"The  Magistrate,  after  perusing  the  Unes,  looked  hard  at  X,  and  said  he 
did  not  think  they  were  written  by  an  Italian. 

"  X,  blushing,  said  he  thought  the  paper  read  in  Court  last  week,  and  which 
frightened  so  the  old  gentleman  to  whom  it  was  addressed,  was  also  not  of 
Italian  origin." 

O  SiGNOR  Broderip,  vou  are  a  wickid  ole  man, 
You  wexis  us  little  horgin  boys  whenever  you  can: 
How  dare  you  talk  of  Justice,  and  go  for  to  seek 
To  pussicute  us  horgin-boys,  you  senguinary  Beek? 

Though  you  set  in  Vestminster  surrounded  by  your  crushers, 
Harrogint  and  habsolute  like  the  Hortacrat  of  hall  the  Rushers, 
Yet  there  is  a  better  vurld  I'd  have  you  for  to  know. 
Likewise  a  place  vere  the  henimies  of  horgin-boys  will  go. 

O  you  vickid  Herod  without  any  pity ! 

London  vithout  horgin-boys  vood  be  a  dismal  city. 

Sweet  Saixt  Cicily  who  first  taught  horgin-pipes  to  blow 

Soften  the  heart  of  this  Magistrit  that  haggerywates  us  so ! 

Good  Italian  gentlemen,  fatherly  and  kind. 
Brings  us  over  to  London  here  our  horgins  for  to  grind; 
Sends  us  out  vith  little  vite  mice  and  guinea-pigs  also 
A  popping  of  the  Veasel  and  a  Jumpin  of  Jim  Crow. 

226 


THE   ORGAN-BOY'S   APPEAL         227 

And  as  us  young  horgin-bojs  is  grateful  in  our  turn 

We  gives  to  these  kind  gentlemen  hall  the  money  we  earn, 

Because  that  they  vood  vop  us  as  wery  wel  we  know 

Unless  we  brought  our  hurnings  back  to  them  as  loves  us  so. 

O  Mr.  Broderip!  wery  much  I'm  surprise, 

Yen  you  take  your  valks  abroad  where  can  be  your  eyes? 

If  a  Beak  had  a  heart  then  you'd  compryend 

Us  pore  little  horgin-boys  was  the  poor  man's  friend. 

Don't  you  see  the  shildren  in  the  droring-roonis 
Clapping  of  their  little  ands  when  they  3^ear  our  toons.'* 
On  their  mothers'  bussums  don't  you  see  the  babbies  crow 
And  down  to  us  dear  horgin-boys  lots  of  apence  throw.'' 

Don't  you  see  the  ousemaids  (pooty  Pollies  and  Maries), 

Ven  ve  bring  our  urdigurdis,  smiling  from  the  hairies? 

Then  they  come  out  vith  a  slice  o'  cole  puddn  or  a  bit  o'  bacon 

or  so 
And  give  it  us  young  horgin-boys  for  lunch  afore  we  go. 

Have  you  ever  seen  the  Hirish  children  sport 

When  our  velcome  music-box  brings  sunshine  in  the  Court.'* 

To  these  little  paupers  who  can  never  pay 

Surely  all  good  horgin-boys,  for  God's  love,  will  play. 

Has  for  those  proud  gentlemen,  like  a  serting  B — k 
(Vich  I  von't  be  pussonal  and  therefore  vil  not  speak). 
That  flings  their  parler-vinders  hup  ven  ve  begin  to  play 
And  cusses  us  and  swears  at  us  in  such  a  wiolent  way, 

Instedd  of  their  abewsing  and  calling  hout  Poleece 
Let  cm  send  out  John  to  us  vith  sixpence  or  a  shillin  apiece. 
Then  like  good  young  horgin-boys  avay  from  there  we'll  go, 
Blessing  sweet  Saixt  Cicily  that  taught  our  pipes  to  blow. 


LITTLE  BILLEE^ 

Am —  "  II  y  avail  un  'petit  7iavire.^' 

There  were  three  sailors  of  Bristol  city 
Who  took  a  boat  and  went  to  sea. 
But  first  with  beef  and  captain's  biscuits 
And  pickled  pork  they   loaded   she. 

There  was  gorging  Jack  and  guzzling  Jimmy, 
And  the  youngest  he  was  little  Billee. 
Now  when  they  got  as  far  as  the  Equator 
They'd  nothing  left  but  one  split  pea. 

Says  gorging  Jack  to  guzzling  Jimmy, 
"  I  am  extremely  hungaree." 

To  gorging  Jack  says   guzzling  Jimmy, 
"  We've  nothing  left,  us  must  eat  we." 

Says  gorging  Jack  to  guzzling  Jimmy, 
"  With  one  another  we  shouldn't  agree ! 
There's  little  Bill,  he's  young  and  tender. 
We're  old  and  tough,  so  let's  eat  he. 

"  Oh !  Billy,  we're  going  to  kill  and  eat  you. 
So  undo  the  button  of  your  chemie." 
When  Bill  received  this  information 
He  used  his  pocket  handkerchie. 

'  As  different  versions  of  this  popular  song  have  been  set  to  music  and  sung, 
no  apology  is  needed  for  the  insertion  in  these  pages  of  what  is  considered  to 
be  the  correct  version. 

228 


LITTLE   BILLEE  229 

"  First  let  me  say  my  catechism, 

Whicli  my  poor  mamy  taught  to  me." 
"  Make  haste,  make  haste,"  says  guzzhng  Jimmy, 

While  Jack  pulled  out  his  snickersnee. 

So  Billy  went  up  to  the  main-top  gallant  mast, 
And  down  he  fell  on  his  bended  knee. 
He  scarce  had  come  to  the  twelfth  commandment 
When  up  he  jumps.     "There's  land  I  see: 

"  Jerusalem  and  Madagascar, 
And  North  and  South  Amerikee: 
There's  the  British  flag  a  riding  at  anchor, 
With  Admiral  Napier,  K.C.B." 

So  when  they  got  aboard  of  the  Admiral's 
He  hanged  fat  Jack  and  flogged  Jimmee ; 
But  as  for  little  Bill  he  made  him 
The  Captain  of  a  Seventy-three. 


THE  END  OF  THE  PLAY 

The  play  is  done;  the  curtain  drops, 

Slow  falling  to  the  prompter's  bell: 
A  moment  yet  the  actor  stops, 

And  looks  around,  to  say  farewell. 
It  is  an  irksome  word  and  task ; 

And,  when  he's  laughed  and  said  his  say, 
He  shows,  as  he  removes  the  mask, 

A  face  that's  anything  but  gay. 

One  word,  ere  yet  the  evening  ends, 

Let's  close  it  with  a  parting  rhyme. 
And  pledge  a  hand  to  all  young  friends, 

As  fits  the  merry  Christmas  time.^ 
On  life's  wide  scene  you,  too,  have  parts. 

That  Fate  ere  long  shall  bid  you  play ; 
Good  night !   with  honest  gentle  hearts 

A  kindly  greeting  go  alway! 

Good  night!— I'd  say,  the  griefs,  the  joys, 

Just  hinted  in  this  mimic  page. 
The  triumphs  and  defeats  of  boys, 

Are  but  repeated  in  our  age. 
I'd  say,  your  woes  were  not  less  keen. 

Your  hopes  more  vain  than  those  of  men; 
Your  pangs  or  pleasures  of  fifteen 

At  forty-five  played  o'er  again. 

1  These  verses  were  printed  at  the  end  of  a  Christmas  Book  (1848-9), 
"  Dr.  Birch  and  his  Young  Friends." 
230 


THE  END  OF  THE  PLAY  231 

I'd  say,  we  suffer  and  we  sti'ive, 

Not  less  nor  more  as  men  than  boys; 
With  grizzled  beards  at  forty-five, 

As  erst  at  twelve  in  corduroy's. 
And  if,  in  time  of  sacred  youth, 

We  learned  at  home  to  love  and  pray, 
Pray  Heaven  that  early  Love  and  Truth 

May  never  wholly  pass  away. 

And  in  the  world,  as  in  the  school, 

I'd  say,  how  fate  may  change  and  shift; 
The  prize  be  sometimes  with  the   fool. 

The  race  not  always  to  the  swift. 
The  strong  may  yield,  the  good  may  fall, 

The  great  man  be  a  vulgar  clown, 
The  knave  be  lifted  over  all. 

The  kind  cast  pitilessly  down. 

Who  knows  the  inscrutable  design? 

Blessed  be  He  who  took  and  gave! 
Why  should  your  mother,  Charles,  not  mine, 

Be  weeping  at  her  darling's  grave?  ^ 
We  bow  to  Heaven  that  will'd  it  so. 

That  darkly  rules  the  fate  of  all. 
That  sends  the  respite  or  the  blow, 

That's  free  to  give,  or  to  recall. 

This  crowns  his  feast  with  wine  and  wit: 

Who  brought  him  to  that  mirth  and  state? 
His  betters,  see,  below  him  sit. 

Or  hunger  hopeless  at  the  gate. 
Who  bade  the  mud  from  Dives'  wheel 

To  spurn  the  rags  of  Lazarus? 
Come,  brother,  in  that  dust  we'll  kneel. 

Confessing  Heaven  that  ruled  it  thus. 

>  C.  B.  ob.  2nth  November,  IHifi,  apt.  42. 


232  THE  END   OF   THE   PLAY 

So  each  shall  mourn,  in  life's  advance, 

Dear  hopes,  dear  friends,  untimely  killed; 
Shall  grieve  for  many  a  forfeit  chance. 

And  longing  passion  unfulfilled. 
Amen !  whatever  fate  be  sent. 

Pray  God  the  heart  may  kindly  glow, 
Although  the  head  with  cares  be  bent, 

And  whitened  with  the  winter  snow. 

Come  wealth  or  want,  come  good  or  ill. 

Let  young  and  old  accept  their  part, 
And  bow  before  the  Awful  Will, 

And  bear  it  Avith  an  honest  heart, 
Who  misses  or  who  wins  the  prize. 

Go,  lose  or  conquer  as  you  can ; 
But  if  3'OU  fail,  or  if  you  rise. 

Be  each,  pray  God,  a  gentleman. 

A  gentleman,  or  old  or  young! 

(Bear  kindly  with  my  humble  lays); 
The  sacred  chorus  first  was  sung 

Upon  the  first  of  Christmas  da^^s: 
The  shepherds  heard  it  overhead — 

The  joyful  angels  raised  it  then: 
Glory  to  Heaven  on  high,  it  said. 

And  peace  on  earth  to  gentle  men. 

My  song,  save  this,  is  little  worth; 

I  lay  the  weary  pen  aside. 
And  wish  you  health,  and  love,  and  mirth, 

As  fits  the  solemn  Christmas-tide. 
As  fits  the  holy  Christmas  birth. 

Be   this,   good    friends,   our   carol   still — 
Be  peace  on  earth,  be  peace  on  earth. 

To  men  of  gentle  will. 


VANITAS  VANITATUM 

How  spake  of  old  the  Royal  Seer  ? 

(His  text  is  one  I  love  to  treat  on.) 
This  life  of  ours  he  said  is  sheer 

Mataiotes  Mataioteton. 

O  Student  of  this  gilded  Book, 

Declare,  while  musing  on  its  pages, 
If  truer  words  were  ever  spoke 

By  ancient,  or  by  modern  sages? 

The  various  authors'  names  but  note,^ 

French,  Spanish,  English,  Russians,  Germans: 

And  in  the  volume  polyglot. 

Sure  you  may  read  a  hundred  sermons! 

What  histories  of  life  are  here. 

More  wild  than  all  romancers'  stories ; 

What  wondrous  transformations  queer. 
What  homilies  on  human  glories! 

What  theme  for  sorrow  or  for  scorn! 

What  chronicle  of  Fate's  surprises— 
Of  adverse  fortune  nobly  borne. 

Of  chances,  changes,  ruins,  rises! 

1  Between  a  page  by  Jules  Janin.  and  a  poem  by  the  Turkish  Ambassador 
in  Madame  de  R— 's  album,  containing  the  autographs  «f  ^uigs   princes 
poets,  marshals,  musicians,  dii.lomatists,  statesmen,  artists,  and  men  ot  letters 
of  all  nations. 

9:v.i 


234  VANITAS  VANITATUM 

Of  thrones  upset,  and  sceptres  broke, 
How  strange  a  record  here  is  written! 

Of  honours,  dealt  as  if  in  joke; 
Of  brave  desert  unkindly  smitten. 

How  low  men  were,  and  how  they  rise! 

How  high  they  were,  and  how  they  tumble ! 

0  vanity  of  vanities  1 

0  laughable,  pathetic  jumble! 

Here  between  honest  Janin's  joke 
And  his  Turk  Excellency's  firman, 

1  write  my  name  upon  the  book : 

1  write  my  name — and  end  my  sermon. 


O  Vanity  of  vanities ! 

How  wayward  the  decrees  of  Fate  are; 
How  very  weak  the  very  wise. 

How  very  small  the  very  great  are! 

What  mean  these  stale  moralities, 

Sir  Preacher,  from  your  desk  you  mumble? 
Why  rail  against  the  great  and  wise. 

And  tire  us  with  your  ceaseless  grumble? 

Pray  choose  us  out  another  text, 
O  man  morose  and  narrow-minded ! 

Come  turn  the  page — I  read  the  next. 
And  then  the  next,  and  still  I  find  it. 

Read  here  how  Wealth  aside  was  thrust. 

And   Folly  set  in  place  exalted ; 
How  Princes  footed  in  the  dust. 

While  lackeys  in  the  saddle  vaulted. 


VANITAS  VANITATUM  235 

Though  thrice  a  thousand  years  are  past, 
Since  David's  son,  the  sad  and  splendid, 

The  weary  King  Ecclesiast, 

Upon  his  awful  tablets  penned  it, — 

Methinks  the  text  is  never  stale, 

And  life  is  every  day  renewing 
Fresh  comments  on  the  old  old  tale 

Of  Folly,  Fortune,  Glory,  Ruin. 

Hark  to  the  Preacher,  preaching  still 
He  lifts  his  voice  and  cries  his  sermon, 

Here  at  St.  Peter's  on  Cornhill, 

As  yonder  on  the  Mount  of  Hermon: 

For  you  and  me  to  heart  to  take 

(O  dear  beloved  brother  readers) 
To-day  as  when  the  good  King  spake 

Beneath  the  solemn  Syrian  cedars. 


TALES 


MEN'S  WIVES 

BY  G.  FITZ-BOODLE 


THE   RAVENSWING 

CHAPTER    I 


WHICH   IS   ENTIRELY  INTRODUCTORY — CONTAINS   AN   ACCOUNT    OF 
MISS    CRUMP,    HER    SUITORS,     AND    HER    FAMILY    CIRCLE 

IN  a  certain  quiet  and  sequestered  nook  of  the  retired 
village  of  London— perhaps  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  Berkeley  Square,  or  at  any  rate  somewhere  near  Bur- 
lington Gardens— there  was  once  a  house  of  entertain- 
ment called  the  "  Bootjack  Hotel."  Mr.  Crump,  the 
landlord,  had,  in  the  outset  of  life,  performed  the  duties 
of  boots  in  some  inn  even  more  frequented  than  his  own, 
and,  far  from  being  ashamed  of  his  origin,  as  many  per- 
sons are  in  the  days  of  their  prosperity,  had  thus  sol- 
emnly recorded  it  over  the  hospitable  gate  of  his  hotel. 

Crump  married  Miss  Budge,  so  well  known  to  the 
admirers  of  the  festive  dance  on  the  other  side  of  the 
water  as  Miss  Delancy;  and  they  had  one  daughter, 
named  Morgiana,  after  that  celebrated  part  in  the 
"  Forty  Thieves  "  which  Miss  Budge  performed  with 
unbounded  applause  both  at  the  "  Surrey  "  and  "  The 
Wells."  Mrs.  Crump  sat  in  a  little  bar,  profusely  orna- 
mented with  pictures  of  the  dancers  of  all  ages,  from 

t39 


240  MEN'S  WIVES 

Hillisberg,  Rose,  Parisot,  who  plied  the  hght  fantastic 
toe  in  1805,  down  to  the  Sylphides  of  our  day.  There 
was  in  the  collection  a  charming  portrait  of  herself,  done 
by  De  Wilde;  she  was  in  the  dress  of  Morgiana,  and  in 
the  act  of  pouring,  to  very  slow  music,  a  quantity  of 
boiling  oil  into  one  of  the  forty  jars.  In  this  sanctuary 
she  sat,  with  black  eyes,  black  hair,  a  purple  face  and  a 
turban,  and  morning,  noon,  or  night,  as  you  went  into 
the  parlour  of  the  hotel,  there  was  JNIrs.  Crump  taking 
tea  (with  a  little  something  in  it),  looking  at  the  fash- 
ions, or  reading  Cumberland's  "  British  Theatre."  The 
Sunday  Times  was  her  paper,  for  she  voted  the  Dispatch, 
that  journal  which  is  taken  in  by  most  ladies  of  her  pro- 
fession, to  be  vulgar  and  Radical,  and  loved  the  theatri- 
cal gossip  in  which  the  other  mentioned  journal  abounds. 

The  fact  is,  that  the  "  Royal  Bootjack,"  though  a 
humble,  was  a  very  genteel  house;  and  a  very  little  per- 
suasion would  induce  Mr.  Crump,  as  he  looked  at  his 
own  door  in  the  sun,  to  tell  you  that  he  had  himself  once 
drawn  off  with  that  very  bootjack  the  top-boots  of  liis 
Royal  Highness  the  Prince  of  Wales  and  the  first  gen- 
tleman in  Europe.  While,  then,  the  houses  of  entertain- 
ment in  the  neighbourhood  were  loud  in  their  pretended 
Liberal  politics,  the  "Bootjack"  stuck  to  the  good  old 
Conservative  line,  and  was  only  frequented  by  such  per- 
sons as  were  of  that  way  of  thinking.  There  were  two 
parlours,  much  accustomed,  one  for  the  gentlemen  of 
the  shoulder-knot,  who  came  from  the  houses  of  their 
employers  hard  by;  another  for  some  "  gents  who  used 
the  'ouse,"  as  Mrs.  Crump  would  say  (heaven  bless  her!) 
in  her  simple  Cockniac  dialect,  and  who  formed  a  little 
club  there. 

I  forgot  to  say  that  while  Mrs.  C.  was  sipping  her  eter- 


THE   RAVENSWING  241 

nal  tea  or  washing  up  her  endless  blue  china,  you  might 
often  hear  JNIiss  IMorgiana  employed  at  the  little  red-silk 
cottage    piano,    singing,    "  Come    where    the    haspens 
quiver,"  or  "  Bonny  lad,  march  over  hill  and  furrow,"  or 
"  My  art  and  lute,"  or  any  other  popular  piece  of  the 
day.    And  the  dear  girl  sung  with  very  considerable  skill 
too,  for  she  had  a  fine  loud  voice,  which  if  not  always  in 
tune,  made  up  for  that  defect  by  its  great  energy  and 
activity;  and  JNIorgiana  was  not  content  with  singing 
the  mere  tune,  but  gave  every  one  of  the  roulades,  flour- 
ishes, and  ornaments  as  she  heard  them  at  the  theatres  by 
]Mrs.  Humby,  Mrs.  Waylett,  or  Madame  Vestris.    The 
girl  had  a  fine  black  eye  like  her  mamma,  a  grand  enthu- 
siasm for  the  stage,  as  every  actor's  child  will  have,  and, 
if  the  truth  must  be  known,  had  appeared  many  and 
many  a  time  at  the  theatre  in  Catherine  Street,  in  minor 
parts  first,  and  then  in  Little  Pickle,  in  Desdemona,  in 
Rosina,  and  in  Miss  Foote's  part  where  she  used  to 
dance:  I  have  not  the  name  to  my  hand,  but  think  it  is 
Davidson.    Four  times  in  the  week,  at  least,  her  mother 
and  she  used  to  sail  off  at  night  to  some  place  of  public 
amusement,  for  Mrs.  Crump  had  a  mysterious  acquaint- 
ance with  all  sorts  of  theatrical  personages ;  and  the  gates 
of  her  old  haunt  "  The  Wells,"  of  the  "  Cobourg  "  (by 
the  kind  permission  of  Mrs.  Davidge),  nay,   of  the 
"  Lane  "  and  the  "  IMarket  "  themselves,  flew  open  be- 
fore her  "  Open  sesame,"  as  the  robbers'  door  did  to  her 
colleague,  Ali  Baba  (Hornbuckle) ,  in  the  operatic  piece 
in  which  she  was  so  famous. 

Beer  was  Mr.  Crump's  beverage,  variegated  by  a 
little  gin,  in  the  evenings ;  and  little  need  be  said  of  this 
gentleman  except  that  he  discharged  his  duties  honour- 
ably, and  filled  the  president's  chair  at  the  club  as  com- 


242  MEN'S    WIVES 

pletely  as  it  could  possibly  be  filled ;  for  he  could  not  even 
sit  in  it  in  his  great-coat,  so  accurately  was  the  seat 
adapted  to  him.  His  wife  and  daughter,  perhaps, 
thought  somewhat  slightingly  of  him,  for  he  had  no 
literary  tastes,  and  had  never  been  at  a  theatre  since  he 
took  his  bride  from  one.  He  was  valet  to  Lord  Slapper 
at  the  time,  and  certain  it  is  that  his  lordship  set  him  up 
in  the  "Bootjack,"  and  that  stories  had  been  told.  But 
what  are  such  to  you  or  me?  Let  bygones  be  bygones; 
Mrs.  Crump  was  quite  as  honest  as  her  neighbours,  and 
Miss  had  500/.,  to  be  paid  down  on  the  day  of  her  wed- 
ding. 

Those  M^io  know  the  habits  of  the  British  tradesman 
are  aware  that  he  has  gregarious  propensities  like  any 
lord  in  the  land;  that  he  loves  a  joke,  that  he  is  not  averse 
to  a  glass ;  that  after  the  day's  toil  he  is  happy  to  consort 
with  men  of  his  degree ;  and  that  as  society  is  not  so  far 
advanced  among  us  as  to  allow  him  to  enjoy  the  com- 
forts of  splendid  club-houses,  which  are  open  to  many 
persons  with  not  a  tenth  part  of  his  pecuniary  means,  he 
meets  his  friends  in  the  cosy  tavern  parlour,  where  a  neat 
sanded  floor,  a  large  Windsor  chair,  and  a  glass  of  hot 
something  and  water,  make  him  as  happy  as  any  of  the 
clubmen  in  their  magnificent  saloons. 

At  the  "  Bootjack  "  was,  as  we  have  said,  a  very  gen- 
teel and  select  society,  called  the  "  Kidney  Club,"  from 
the  fact  that  on  Saturday  evenings  a  little  graceful 
supper  of  broiled  kidneys  was  usually  discussed  by  the 
members  of  the  club.  Saturday  was  their  grand  night; 
not  but  that  they  met  on  all  other  nights  in  the  week 
when  inclined  for  festivity:  and  indeed  some  of  them 
could  not  come  on  Saturdays  in  the  summer,  having  ele- 
gant villas  in  the  suburbs,  where  they  passed  the  six-and- 


THE    RAVENSWIXG  243 

thirty  hours  of  recreation  that  are  happily  to  be  found  at 
the  end  of  every  week. 

There  was  Mr.  Balls,  the  great  grocer  of  South  Aud- 
ley  Street,  a  warm  man,  who,  they  say,  had  his  20,000/. ; 
Jack  Snaffle,  of  the  mews  hard  by,  a  capital  fellow  for 
a  song;  Clinker,  the  ironmonger:  all  married  gentlemen 
and  in  the  best  line  of  business ;  Tressle,  the  undertaker, 
&c.  No  liveries  were  admitted  into  the  room,  as  may  be 
imagined,  but  one  or  two  select  butlers  and  major-domos 
joined  the  circle;  for  the  persons  composing  it  knew  very 
well  how  important  it  was  to  be  on  good  terms  with  these 
gentlemen:  and  many  a  time  my  lord's  account  would 
never  have  been  paid,  and  my  lady's  large  order  never 
have  been  given,  but  for  the  conversation  which  took 
place  at  the  "  Bootjack,"  and  the  friendly  intercourse 
subsisting  between  all  the  members  of  the  society. 

The  tiptop  men  of  the  society  were  two  bachelors,  and 
two  as  fashionable  tradesmen  as  any  in  the  town:  Mr. 
Woolsey,  from  Stultz's,  of  the  famous  house  of  Linsey, 
Woolsey  and  Co.  of  Conduit  Street,  Tailors;  and  Mr. 
Eglantine,  the  celebrated  perruquier  and  perfumer  of 
Bond  Street,  whose  soaps,  razors,  and  patent  ventilating 
scalps  are  known  throughout  Europe.  Linsey,  the  se- 
nior partner  of  the  tailors'  firm,  had  his  handsome  man- 
sion in  Regent's  Park,  drove  his  buggy,  and  did  little 
more  than  lend  his  name  to  the  house.  Woolsey  lived  in 
it,  was  the  working  man  of  the  firm,  and  it  was  said  that 
his  cut  was  as  magnificent  as  that  of  any  man  in  the  pro- 
fession. Woolsey  and  Eglantine  were  rivals  in  many 
ways,— rivals  in  fashion,  rivals  in  wit,  and,  above  all, 
rivals  for  the  hand  of  an  amiable  young  lady  whom  we 
have  already  mentioned,  the  dark-eyed  songstress  INIor- 
giana  Crump.    They  were  both  desperately  in  love  with 


244  MEN'S    WIVES 

her,  that  was  the  truth;  and  each,  in  the  absence  of  the 
other,  abused  his  rival  heartil}^  Of  the  hair-dresser 
Woolsey  said,  that  as  for  Eglantine  being  his  real  name, 
it  was  all  his  (Mr.  Woolsey's)  eye;  that  he  was  in  the 
hands  of  the  Jews,  and  his  stock  and  grand  shop  eaten 
up  by  usury.  And  with  regard  to  Woolsey,  Eglantine 
remarked,  that  his  pretence  of  being  descended  from  the 
Cardinal  was  all  nonsense;  that  he  was  a  partner,  cer- 
tainly, in  the  firm,  but  had  only  a  sixteenth  share;  and 
that  the  firm  could  never  get  their  moneys  in,  and  had 
an  immense  number  of  bad  debts  in  their  books.  As  is 
usual,  there  was  a  great  deal  of  truth  and  a  great  deal  of 
malice  in  these  tales;  however,  the  gentlemen  were,  take 
them  all  in  all,  in  a  very  fashionable  way  of  business, 
and  had  their  claims  to  Miss  INIorgiana's  hand  backed 
by  the  parents.  Mr.  Crump  was  a  partisan  of  the  tailor ; 
while  Mrs.  C.  was  a  strong  advocate  for  the  claims  of 
the  enticing  perfumer. 

Now,  it  was  a  curious  fact,  that  these  two  gentlemen 
were  each  in  need  of  the  other's  services— Woolsej^  being 
afflicted  with  premature  baldness,  or  some  other  necessity 
for  a  wig  still  more  fatal— Eglantine  being  a  very  fat 
man,  who  required  much  art  to  make  his  figure  at  all 
decent.  He  wore  a  brown  frock-coat  and  frogs,  and 
attempted  by  all  sorts  of  contrivances  to  hide  his  obesity ; 
but  Woolsey's  remark,  that,  dress  as  he  would,  he  would 
always  look  like  a  snob,  and  that  there  was  only  one  man 
in  England  who  could  make  a  gentleman  of  him,  went 
to  the  perfumer's  soul;  and  if  there  was  one  thing  on 
earth  he  longed  for  (not  including  the  hand  of  Miss 
Crump),  it  was  to  have  a  coat  from  Linsey's,  in  which 
costume  he  was  sure  that  ]\Iorgiana  would  not  resist 
him. 


THE   RAVENSWING  245 

If  Eglantine  was  uneasy  about  the  coat,  on  the  other 
hand  he  attacked  Woolsey  atrociously  on  the  score  of 
his  wig;  for  though  the  latter  went  to  the  best  makers, 
he  never  could  get  a  peruke  to  sit  naturally  upon  him; 
and  the  unhappy  epithet  of  Mr.  Wiggins,  applied  to  him 
on  one  occasion  by  the  barber,  stuck  to  him  ever  after  in 
the  club,  and  made  him  writhe  when  it  was  uttered.  Each 
man  would  have  quitted  the  "  Kidneys  "  in  disgust  long 
since,  but  for  the  other,— for  each  had  an  attraction  in 
the  place,  and  dared  not  leave  the  field  in  possession  of 
his  rival. 

To  do  Miss  Morgiana  justice,  it  must  be  said,  that  she 
did  not  encourage  one  more  than  another;  but  as  far  as 
accepting  eau-de-Cologne  and  hair-combs  from  the  per- 
fumer,—some  opera  tickets,  a  treat  to  Greenwich,  and  a 
piece  of  real  Genoa  velvet  for  a  bonnet  (it  had  originally 
been  intended  for  a  waistcoat) ,  from  the  admiring  tailor, 
she  had  been  equally  kind  to  each,  and  in  return  had 
made  each  a  present  of  a  lock  of  her  beautiful  glossy 
hair.  It  was  all  she  had  to  give,  poor  girl!  and  what 
could  she  do  but  gratify  her  admirers  by  this  cheap  and 
artless  testimony  of  her  regard?  A  pretty  scene  and 
quarrel  took  place  between  the  rivals  on  the  day  when 
they  discovered  that  each  was  in  possession  of  one  of 
Morgiana's  ringlets. 

Such,  then,  were  the  owners  and  inmates  of  the  little 
"  Bootjack,"  from  whom  and  which,  as  this  chapter  is 
exceedingly  discursive  and  descriptive,  we  must  separate 
the  reader  for  a  while,  and  carry  him— it  is  only  into 
Bond  Street,  so  no  gentleman  need  be  afraid— carry 
him  into  Bond  Street,  where  some  other  personages  are 
awaiting  his  consideration. 

Not  far  from  Mr.  Eglantine's  shop  in  Bond  Street, 


246  MEN'S   WIVES 

stand,  as  is  very  well  known,  the  Windsor  chambers. 
The  West  Diddlesex  Association   (Western  Branch), 
the  British  and  Foreign  Soap  Company,  the  celebrated 
attorneys  Kite  and  Eevison,  have  their  respective  offices 
here;  and  as  the  names  of  the  other  inhabitants  of  the 
chambers  are  not  only  painted  on  the  walls,  but  also  reg- 
istered in  Mrs.  Boyle's  "  Court  Guide,"  it  is  quite  unne- 
cessary that  they  should  be  repeated  here.  Among  them, 
on  the  entresol  (between  the  splendid  saloons  of  the  Soap 
Company  on  the  first  floor,  with  their  statue  of  Britannia 
presenting  a  packet  of  the  soap  to  Europe,  Asia,  Africa, 
and  America,  and  the  West  Diddlesex  Western  Branch 
on  the  basement)  —lives  a  gentleman  by  the  name  of  Mr. 
Howard  Walker.     The  brass  plate  on  the  door  of  that 
gentleman's  chambers  had  the  word  "  Agency  "  inscribed 
beneath  his  name;  and  we  are  therefore  at  liberty  to 
imagine  that  he  followed  that  mysterious  occupation. 
In  person  Mr.  Walker  was  very  genteel;  he  had  large 
whiskers,  dark  eyes  (with  a  slight  cast  in  them) ,  a  cane, 
and  a  velvet  waistcoat.    He  was  a  member  of  a  club ;  had 
an  admission  to  the  opera,  and  knew  every  face  behind 
the  scenes;  and  was  in  the  habit  of  using  a  number  of 
French  phrases  in  his  conversation,  having  picked  up  a 
smattering  of  that  language  during  a  residence  "  on  the 
Continent;  "  in  fact,  he  had  found  it  very  convenient  at 
various  times  of  his  life  to  dwell  in  the  city  of  Boulogne, 
where  he  acquired  a  knowledge  of  smoking,  ecarte,  and 
bilhards,  which  was  afterwards  of  great  service  to  him. 
He  knew  all  the  best  tables  in  town,  and  the  marker  at 
Hunt's  could  only  give  him  ten.    He  had  some  fashion- 
able acquaintances  too,  and  you  might  see  him  walking 
arm-in-arm  with  such  gentlemen  as  my  Lord  Vauxhall, 
the  Marquess  of  Billingsgate,  or  Captain  Buff;  and  at 


THE   RAVENSWING  247 

the  same  time  nodding  to  young  INIoses,  the  dandy 
baihiF;  or  Loder,  the  gambhng-house  keeper;  or  Amina- 
dab,  the  cigar-seller  in  the  Quadrant.  Sometimes  he 
wore  a  pair  of  moustaches,  and  was  called  Captain 
Walker ;  grounding  his  claim  to  that  title  upon  the  fact 
of  having  once  held  a  commission  in  the  service  of  her 
Majesty  the  Queen  of  Portugal.  It  scarcely  need  be 
said  that  he  had  been  through  the  Insolvent  Court  many 
times.  But  to  those  who  did  not  know  his  history  in- 
timately there  was  some  difficulty  in  identifying  him 
with  the  individual  who  had  so  taken  the  benefit  of  the 
law,  inasmuch  as  in  his  schedule  his  name  appeared  as 
Hooker  Walker,  wine-merchant,  commission-agent, 
music-seller,  or  what  not.  The  fact  is,  that  though  he 
preferred  to  call  himself  Howard,  Hooker  was  his  Chris- 
tian name,  and  it  had  been  bestowed  on  him  by  his  worthy 
old  father,  who  was  a  clergyman,  and  had  intended  his 
son  for  that  profession.  But  as  the  old  gentleman  died 
in  York  gaol,  where  he  was  a  prisoner  for  debt,  he  was 
never  able  to  put  his  pious  intentions  with  regard  to  his 
son  into  execution ;  and  the  young  fellow  ( as  he  was  wont 
with  many  oaths  to  assert)  was  thrown  on  his  own  re- 
sources, and  became  a  man  of  the  world  at  a  very  early 
age. 

What  Mr.  Howard  Walker's  age  was  at  the  time  of 
the  commencement  of  this  history,  and,  indeed,  for  an 
indefinite  period  before  or  afterwards,  it  is  impossible 
to  determine.  If  he  were  eight-and-twenty,  as  he  as- 
serted himself.  Time  had  dealt  hardly  with  him :  his  hair 
was  thin,  there  were  many  crows'-feet  about  his  eyes, 
and  other  signs  in  his  countenance  of  the  progress  of 
decay.  If,  on  the  contrary,  he  were  forty,  as  Sam 
Snaffle  declared,  who  himself  had  misfortunes  in  early 


248  MEN'S    WIVES 

life,  and  vowed  he  knew  Mr.  Walker  in  Whitecross 
Street  Prison  in  1820,  he  was  a  very  young-looking 
j3erson  considering  his  age.  His  figure  was  active  and 
slim,  his  leg  neat,  and  he  had  not  in  his  whiskers  a  single 
white  hair. 

It  must,  however,  be  owned  that  he  used  ]\Ir.  Eglan- 
tine's Regenerative  Unction  (which  will  make  your 
whiskers  as  black  as  your  boot),  and,  in  fact,  he  was  a 
pretty  constant  visitor  at  that  gentleman's  emporium; 
dealing  with  him  largely  for  soaps  and  articles  of  per- 
fumery, which  he  had  at  an  exceedingly  low  rate.  In- 
deed, he  was  never  known  to  pay  Mr.  Eglantine  one 
single  shilling  for  those  objects  of  luxury,  and,  having 
them  on  such  moderate  terms,  was  enabled  to  indulge  in 
them  pretty  copiously.  Thus  Mr.  Walker  was  almost 
as  great  a  nosegay  as  Mr.  Eglantine  himself:  his  hand- 
kerchief was  scented  with  verbena,  his  hair  with  jessa- 
mine, and  his  coat  had  usually  a  fine  perfume  of  cigars, 
which  rendered  his  presence  in  a  small  room  almost 
instantaneously  remarkable.  I  have  described  JNIr. 
Walker  thus  accurately  because,  in  truth,  it  is  more 
with  characters  than  with  astounding  events  that  this 
little  history  deals,  and  Mr.  Walker  is  one  of  the  prin- 
cipal of  our  dramatis  personce. 

And  so,  having  introduced  Mr.  W.,  we  will  walk  over 
with  him  to  Mr.  Eglantine's  emporium,  where  that  gen- 
tleman is  in  waiting,  too,  to  have  his  likeness  taken. 

There  is  about  an  acre  of  plate  glass  under  the  royal 
arms  on  Mr.  Eglantine's  shop-window;  and  at  night, 
when  the  gas  is  lighted,  and  the  washballs  are  illumi- 
nated, and  the  lambent  flame  plays  fitfully  over  number- 
less bottles  of  vari-coloured  perfumes — now  flashes  on 
a  case  of  razors,  and  now  lightens  up  a  crystal  vase,  con- 


THE   RAVENSWING  249 

taining  a  hundred  thousand  of  his  patent  tooth-brushes— 
the  effect  of  the  sight  may  be  imagined.  You  don't 
suppose  that  he  is  a  creature  who  has  those  odious,  sim- 
pering wax  figures  in  his  window,  that  are  called  by  the 
vulgar  dummies?  He  is  above  such  a  wretched  artifice; 
and  it  is  my  belief  that  he  would  as  soon  have  his  own 
head  chopped  off,  and  placed  as  a  trunkless  decoration 
to  his  shop-window,  as  allow  a  dummy  to  figure  there. 
On  one  pane  you  read  in  elegant  gold  letters  "  Eglan- 
tinia"— 'tis  his  essence  for  the  handkerchief;  on  the 
other  is  written  "Regenerative  Unction  "—'tis  his  in- 
valuable pomatum  for  the  hair. 

There  is  no  doubt  about  it:  Eglantine's  knowledge  of 
his  profession  amounts  to  genius.  He  sells  a  cake  of 
soap  for  seven  shillings,  for  which  another  man  would 
not  get  a  shilling,  and  his  tooth-brushes  go  off  like  wild- 
fire at  half-a-guinea  a-piece.  If  he  has  to  administer 
rouge  or  pearl-powder  to  ladies,  he  does  it  with  a  mystery 
and  fascination  which  there  is  no  resisting,  and  the  ladies 
believe  there  are  no  cosmetics  like  his.  He  gives  his 
wares  unheard-of  names,  and  obtains  for  them  sums 
equally  prodigious.  He  can  dress  hair— that  is  a  f act- 
as  few  men  in  this  age  can ;  and  has  been  known  to  take 
twenty  pounds  in  a  single  night  from  as  many  of  the 
first  ladies  of  England  when  ringlets  were  in  fashion. 
The  introduction  of  bands,  he  says,  made  a  difference 
of  2,000Z.  a  year  in  his  income;  and  if  tlicre  is  one  thing 
in  tlie  world  he  hates  and  despises,  it  is  a  INIadonna.  "  I'm 
not,"  says  he,  "  a  tradesman  — I'm  a  Ji artist  "  (Mr.  Eg- 
lantine was  born  in  liOndon)  —  "  I'm  a  hartist;  and  show 
me  a  fine  'ead  of  'air,  and  I'll  dress  it  for  nothink."  He 
vows  that  it  was  his  way  of  dressing  jNIademoiscllc  Son- 
tag's  hair,  that  caused  the  count  her  husband  to  fall  in 


250  MEN'S    WIVES 

love  with  her;  and  he  has  a  lock  of  it  in  a  brooch,  and 
says  it  was  the  finest  head  he  ever  saw,  except  one,  and 
that  was  Morgiana  Crump's. 

With  his  genius  and  his  position  in  the  profession, 
how  comes  it,  then,  that  Mr.  Eglantine  was  not  a  man 
of  fortune,  as  many  a  less  clever  has  been?  If  the  truth 
must  be  told,  he  loved  pleasure,  and  was  in  the  hands  of 
the  Jews.  He  had  been  in  business  twenty  years :  he  had 
borrowed  a  thousand  pounds  to  purchase  his  stock  and 
shop;  and  he  calculated  that  he  had  paid  upwards  of 
twenty  thousand  pounds  for  the  use  of  the  one  thousand, 
which  was  still  as  much  due  as  on  the  first  day  when  he 
entered  business.  He  could  show  that  he  had  received  a 
thousand  dozen  of  champagne  from  the  disinterested 
money-dealers  with  whom  he  usually  negotiated  his 
paper.  He  had  pictures  all  over  his  "  studios,"  which 
had  been  purchased  in  the  same  bargains.  If  he  sold  his 
goods  at  an  enormous  price,  he  paid  for  them  at  a  rate 
almost  equalty  exorbitant.  There  was  not  an  article  in 
his  shop  but  came  to  him  through  his  Israelite  providers ; 
and  in  the  very  front  shop  itself  sat  a  gentleman  who 
was  the  nominee  of  one  of  them,  and  who  was  called  Mr. 
IMossrose.  He  was  there  to  superintend  the  cash  ac- 
count, and  to  see  that  certain  instalments  were  paid  to 
his  principals,  according  to  certain  agreements  entered 
into  between  Mr.  Eglantine  and  them. 

Having  that  sort  of  opinion  of  Mr.  IMossrose  which 
Damocles  may  have  had  of  the  sword  which  hung  over 
his  head,  of  course  ]\Ir.  Eglantine  hated  his  foreman 
profoundly.  "  He  an  artist,"  would  the  former  gentle- 
man exclaim;  "  why,  he's  only  a  disguised  bailiff*!  Moss- 
rose  indeed!     The  chap's  name's  Amos,  and  he  sold 


THE    RAVENSWING  251 

oranges  before  he  came  here."  ^Ir.  Mossrose,  on  his 
side,  utterly  despised  JSIr.  Eglantine,  and  looked  forward 
to  the  day  when  he  would  become  the  proprietor  of  the 
shop,  and  take  Eglantine  for  a  foreman;  and  then  it 
would  be  his  turn  to  sneer  and  bully,  and  ride  the  high 
horse. 

Thus  it  will  be  seen  that  there  w^as  a  skeleton  in  the 
great  perfumer's  house,  as  the  saying  is:  a  worm  in  his 
heart's  core,  and  though  to  all  appearance  prosperous, 
he  was  really  in  an  awkward  position. 

What  My.  Eglantine's  relations  were  with  iSIr. 
Walker  may  be  imagined  from  the  following  dialogue 
w'hich  took  place  between  the  two  gentlemen  at  five 
o'clock  one  summer's  afternoon,  when  ^Ir.  Walker, 
issuing  from  his  chambers,  came  across  to  the  perfumer's 
shop :  — 

"  Is  Eglantine  at  home,  Mr.  Mossrose?  "  said  Walker 
to  the  foreman,  who  sat  in  the  front  shop. 

"Don't  know— go  and  look"  (meaning  go  and  be 
hanged)  ;  for  Mossrose  also  hated  INIr.  Walker. 

"  If  you're  uncivil  I'll  break  your  bones,  JNIr.  Amos/' 
says  Mr.  Walker,  sternly. 

"  I  should  like  to  see  you  try,  Mr.  Hooker  Walker," 
replies  the  undaunted  shopman;  on  which  the  captain, 
looking  several  tremendous  canings  at  him,  walked  into 
the  back  room  or  "  studio." 

"How  are  you.  Tiny  my  buck?"  says  the  Captain. 
"  Much  doing?  " 

"  Not  a  soul  in  town.  I  'aven't  touched  the  hirons  all 
day,"  replied  Mr.  Eglantine,  in  rather  a  desponding 
way. 

"  Well,    just    get   them    ready    now,    and    give    my 


252  MEN'S    WIVES 

whiskers  a  turn.  I'm  going  to  dine  with  Bilhngsgate 
and  some  out-and-out  fellows  at  the  '  Regent,'  and  so, 
my  lad,  just  do  your  hest." 

"  I  can't,"  says  Mr.  Eglantine.  "  I  expect  ladies, 
captain,  every  minute." 

"Very  good;  I  don't  want  to  trouble  such  a  great 
man,  I'm  sure.  Good-by,  and  let  me  hear  from  you 
this  day  week,  Mr.  Eglantine."  "  This  day  week  " 
meant  that  at  seven  days  from  that  time  a  certain  bill 
accepted  by  ]Mr.  Eglantine  would  be  due,  and  presented 
for  payment. 

"  Don't  be  in  such  a  hurry,  Captain— do  sit  down.  I'll 
curl  you  in  one  minute.  And,  I  say,  won't  the  party  re- 
new? " 

"  Impossible — it's  the  third  renewal." 

"  But  I'll  make  the  thing  handsome  to  you;— indeed 
I  will." 

"  How  much?  " 

"  Will  ten  pounds  do  the  business?  " 

"What!  offer  my  principal  ten  pounds?  Are  you 
mad,  Eglantine? — A  little  more  of  the  iron  to  the  left 
whisker." 

"  No,  I  meant  for  commission." 

"  Well,  I'll  see  if  that  will  do.  The  party  I  deal  with, 
Eglantine,  has  power,  I  know,  and  can  defer  the  matter 
no  doubt.  As  for  me,  you  know,  Fve  nothing  to  do  in 
the  affair,  and  only  act  as  a  friend  between  you  and  him. 
I  give  you  my  honour  and  soul,  I  do." 

"  I  know  you  do,  my  dear  sir."  The  two  last  speeches 
were  lies.  The  perfumer  knew  perfectly  well  that  Mr. 
Walker  would  pocket  the  10/.;  but  he  was  too  easy  to 
care  for  paying  it,  and  too  timid  to  quarrel  with  such  a 
powerful  friend.     And  he  had  on  three  different  occa- 


THE    RAVENSWING  253 

sions  already  paid  10/.  fine  for  the  renewal  of  the  bill  in 
question,  all  of  which  bonuses  he  knew  went  to  his 
friend,  Mr.  AValker. 

Here,  too,  the  reader  will  perceive  what  was,  in  part, 
the  meaning  of  the  word  "  agency  "  on  INIr.  Walker's 
door.  He  was  a  go-between  between  money-lenders  and 
borrowers  in  this  world,  and  certain  small  sums  always 
remained  with  him  in  the  course  of  the  transaction.  He 
was  an  agent  for  wine,  too;  an  agent  for  places  to  be 
had  through  the  influence  of  great  men ;  he  was  an  agent 
for  half-a-dozen  theatrical  people,  male  and  female,  and 
had  the  interests  of  the  latter  especiallj^  it  was  said,  at 
heart.  Such  were  a  few  of  the  means  by  which  this 
worthy  gentleman  contrived  to  support  himself,  and  if, 
as  he  was  fond  of  high  living,  gambling,  and  pleasures 
of  all  kinds,  his  revenue  was  not  large  enough  for  his 
expenditure — why,  he  got  into  debt,  and  settled  his  bills 
that  way.  He  w^as  as  much  at  home  in  the  Fleet  as  in 
Pall  iNIall,  and  quite  as  happy  in  the  one  place  as  in  the 
other.  "  That's  the  way  I  take  things,"  would  this  j^hi- 
losopher  say.  "  If  I've  money,  I  spend;  if  I've  credit,  I 
borrow;  if  I'm  dunned,  I  whitewash;  and  so  you  can't 
beat  me  down."  Happy  elasticity  of  temperament!  I  do 
believe  that  in  spite  of  his  misfortunes  and  precarious 
position,  there  was  no  man  in  England  whose  conscience 
was  more  calm,  and  whose  slumbers  were  more  tranquil 
than  those  of  Captain  Howard  Walker. 

As  he  was  sitting  under  the  hands  of  INIr.  Eglantine, 
he  reverted  to  "  the  ladies,"  whom  the  latter  gentleman 
professed  to  expect ;  said  he  was  a  sly  dog,  a  lucky  ditto, 
and  asked  him  if  the  ladies  were  handsome. 

Eglantine  thought  there  could  be  no  harm  in  telling 
a  bouncer  to  a  gentleman  with  whom  he  was  engaged 


254  MEN'S    WIVES 

in  money  transactions;  and  so,  to  give  the  captain  an 
idea  of  his  solvency  and  the  brilhancy  of  his  future  pros- 
pects, "  Captain,"  said  he,  "  I've  got  a  hundred  and 
eighty  pounds  out  with  you,  which  you  were  obhging 
enough  to  negotiate  for  me.  Have  I,  or  have  I  not, 
two  bills  out  to  that  amount?  " 

"  Well,  my  good  fellow,  you  certainly  have;  and  what 
then?" 

"What  then?  Why,  I  bet  you  five  pounds  to  one, 
that  in  three  months  those  bills  are  paid." 

"  Done!  five  pounds  to  one.    I  take  it." 

This  sudden  closing  with  him  made  the  perfumer 
rather  uneasy ;  but  he  was  not  to  pay  for  three  months, 
and  so  he  said  "  Done!  "  too,  and  went  on:  "  What  would 
you  say  if  your  bills  were  paid?  " 

"Not  mine;  Pike's." 

"Well,  if  Pike's  were  paid;  and  the  Minories'  man 
paid,  and  every  single  liability  I  have  cleared  off;  and 
that  INIossrose  flung  out  of  winder,  and  me  and  my  em- 
porium as  free  as  hair?  " 

"  You  don't  say  so?  Is  Queen  Anne  dead?  and  has 
she  left  you  a  fortune?  or  what's  the  luck  in  the  wind 
nowf 

"  It's  better  than  Queen  Anne,  or  anybody  dying. 
What  should  you  say  to  seeing  in  that  very  place  where 
Mossrose  now  sits  (hang  him!) — seeing  the  finest  head 
of  'air  now  in  Europe?  A  woman,  I  tell  you — a  slap-up 
lovely  woman,  who,  I'm  proud  to  say,  will  soon  be  called 
Mrs.  Heglantine,  and  will  bring  me  five  thousand 
pounds  to  her  fortune." 

"  Well,  Tiny,  this  is  good  luck  indeed.  I  say,  you'll 
be  able  to  do  a  bill  or  two  for  me  then,  hay?  You  won't 
forget  an  old  friend?  " 


THE    RAVENSWING  255 

"  That  I  won't.  I  shall  have  a  place  at  my  board 
for  you,  capting ;  and  many's  the  time  I  shall  'ope  to  see 
you  under  that  ma'ogany." 

"  What  will  the  French  milliner  say?  She'll  hang  her- 
self for  despair,  Eglantine." 

"  Hush!  not  a  word  about  'er.  I've  sown  all  my  wild 
oats,  I  tell  3'ou.  Eglantine  is  no  longer  the  gay  young 
bachelor,  but  the  sober  married  man.  I  want  a  heart 
to  share  the  feelings  of  mine.  I  want  repose.  I'm  not 
so  young  as  I  was,  I  feel  it." 

"  Pooh!  pooh!  3^ou  are — you  are — " 

"  Well,  but  I  sigh  for  an  'appy  fireside;  and  I'll  have 
it. 

"  And  give  up  that  club  which  you  belong  to,  hay?  " 

"  '  The  Kidneys? '  Oh!  of  course,  no  married  man 
should  belong  to  such  places:  at  least,  I'W  not;  and  I'll 
have  my  kidneys  broiled  at  home.  But  be  quiet,  cap- 
tain, if  you  please;  the  ladies  appointed  to — " 

"  And  is  it  the  lady  you  expect?  eh,  you  rogue!  " 

"  Well,  get  along.    It's  her  and  her  Ma." 

But  Mr.  Walker  determined  he  wouldn't  get  along, 
and  would  see  these  lovely  ladies  before  he  stirred. 

The  operation  on  Mr.  AValker's  whiskers  being  con- 
cluded, he  was  arranging  his  toilet  before  the  glass  in  an 
agreeable  attitude :  his  neck  out,  his  enormous  pin  settled 
in  his  stock  to  his  satisfaction,  his  eyes  complacently 
directed  towards  the  reflection  of  his  left  and  favourite 
whisker.  Eglantine  was  laid  on  a  settee,  in  an  easy, 
though  melancholy  posture;  he  was  twiddling  the  tongs 
with  which  he  had  just  operated  on  Walker  with  one 
hand,  and  his  right-hand  ringlet  with  the  other,  and  he 
was  thinking — thinking  of  Morgiana;  and  then  of  the 
bill  which  was  to  become  due  on  the  16th;  and  then  of 


256  MEN'S  WIVES 

a  light  blue  velvet  waistcoat  with  gold  sprigs,  in  which 
he  looked  very  killing,  and  so  was  trudging  round  in  his 
little  circle  of  loves,  fears,  and  vanities.  "Hang  it!" 
Mr.  Walker  was  thinking,  "  I  am  a  handsome  man. 
A  pair  of  whiskers  like  mine  are  not  met  with  every 
day.  If  anybody  can  see  that  my  tuft  is  dyed,  may  I 
be — "  When  the  door  was  flung  open,  and  a  large  lady 
with  a  curl  on  her  forehead,  yellow  shawl,  a  green-velvet 
bonnet  with  feathers,  half -boots,  and  a  drab  gown  with 
tulips  and  other  large  exotics  painted  on  it — when,  in 
a  word,  Mrs.  Crump  and  her  daughter  bounced  into  the 
room. 

"  Here  we  are,  Mr.  E.,"  cries  Mrs.  Crump,  in  a  gay, 
foldtre,  confidential  air.  "But  law!  there's  a  gent  in 
the  room!  " 

"  Don't  mind  me,  ladies,"  said  the  gent  alluded  to, 
with  his  fascinating  way.  "  I'm  a  friend  of  Eglantine's; 
ain't  I,  Egg?  a  chip  of  the  old  block,  hay?  " 

''  That  you  are,"  said  the  perfumer,  starting  up. 

"An  'air-dresser?"  asked  Mrs.  Crump.  "Well,  I 
thought  he  was;  there's  something,  Mr.  E.,  in  gentlemen 
of  your  profession  so  exceeding,  so  uncommon  dis- 
ta7igy." 

"  Madam,  you  do  me  proud,"  replied  the  gentleman 
so  complimented,  with  great  presence  of  mind.  "  Will 
you  allow  me  to  try  my  skill  upon  you,  or  upon  Miss, 
your  lovely  daughter?  I'm  not  so  clever  as  Eglantine, 
but  no  bad  hand,  I  assure  you." 

*'  Nonsense,  Captain,"  interrupted  the  perfumer,  who 
w^as  uncomfortable  somehow  at  the  rencontre  between  the 
Captain  and  the  object  of  his  affection.  "He's  not  in 
the  profession,  Mrs.  C.  This  is  my  friend  Captain 
Walker,  and  proud  I  am  to  call  him  my  friend."    And 


THE   RAVENSWING  257 

then  aside  to  Mrs.  C,  "  One  of  the  first  swells  on  town, 
ma'am— a  regular  tip-topper." 

Humouring  the  mistake  which  Mrs.  Crump  had  just 
made,  ^Ir.  Walker  thrust  the  curling-irons  into  the  fire 
in  a  minute,  and  looked  round  at  the  ladies  with  such  a 
fascinating  grace,  that  both,  now  made  acquainted  with 
his  quality,  blushed  and  giggled,  and  were  quite  pleased. 
Mamma  looked  at  'Gina,  and  'Gina  looked  at  mamma; 
and  then  mamma  gave  'Gina  a  little  blow  in  the  region 
of  her  little  waist,  and  then  both  burst  out  laughing,  as 
ladies  will  laugh,  and  as,  let  us  trust,  they  may  laugh  for 
ever  and  ever.  Why  need  there  be  a  reason  for  laugh- 
ing? Let  us  laugh  when  we  are  laughy,  as  we  sleep 
when  we  are  sleepy.  And  so  jNIrs.  Crump  and  her  demoi- 
selle laughed  to  their  hearts'  content;  and  both  fixed 
their  large  shining  black  eyes  repeatedly  on  Mr.  Walker. 

"  I  won't  leave  the  room,"  said  he,  coming  forward 
with  the  heated  iron  in  his  hand,  and  smoothing  it  on  the 
brown  paper  with  all  the  dexterity  of  a  professor  (for 
the  fact  is,  Mr.  W.  every  morning  curled  his  own  im- 
mense whiskers  with  the  greatest  skill  and  care)  —"I 
won't  leave  the  room.  Eglantine  my  boy.  My  lady  here 
took  me  for  a  hairdresser,  and  so,  you  know,  I've  a  right 
to  stay." 

"  He  can't  stay,"  said  Mrs.  Crump,  all  of  a  sudden, 
blushing  as  red  as  a  peony. 

"  I  shall  have  on  my  peignoir,  mamma,"  said  Miss, 
looking  at  tlie  gentleman,  and  then  dropping  down  her 
eyes  and  blushing  too. 

"  But  he  can't  stay,  'Gina,  I  tell  you:  do  you  think 
that  I  would,  before  a  gentleman,  take  off  my — " 

"  Mamma  means  her  front!  "  said  Miss,  jumping  up, 
and  beginning  to  laugh  witli  all  her  might;  at  which  the 


258  MEN'S  WIVES 

honest  landlady  of  the  "  Bootjack,"  who  loved  a  joke, 
although  at  her  own  expense,  laughed  too,  and  said  that 
no  one,  except  Mr.  Crump  and  Mr.  Eglantine,  had  ever 
seen  her  without  the  ornament  in  question. 

"  Do  go  now,  you  provoking  thing,  you !  "  continued 
Miss  C.  to  Mr.  Walker;  "  I  wish  to  hear  the  hoverture, 
and  it's  six  o'clock  now,  and  we  shall  never  be  done 
against  tlien:  "  but  the  way  in  which  Morgiana  said  "do 
go,"  clearly  indicated  "  don't  "  to  the  perspicuous  mind 
of  Mr.  Walker. 

"  Perhaps  you  'ad  better  go,"  continued  Mr.  Eglan- 
tine, joining  in  this  sentiment,  and  being,  in  truth,  some- 
what uneasy  at  the  admiration  which  his  "  swell  friend  " 
excited. 

"  I'll  see  you  hanged  first,  Eggy  my  boy!  Go  I  won't, 
until  these  ladies  have  had  their  hair  dressed :  didn't  you 
yourself  tell  me  that  Miss  Crump's  was  the  most  beau- 
tiful hair  in  Europe?  And  do  you  think  that  I'll  go 
away  without  seeing  it?    No,  here  I  stay." 

"  You  naughty,  wicked,  odious,  provoking  man!  "  said 
Miss  Crump.  But,  at  the  same  time,  she  took  off  her 
bonnet,  and  placed  it  on  one  of  the  side  candlesticks  of 
Mr.  Eglantine's  glass  (it  was  a  black-velvet  bonnet, 
trimmed  with  sham  lace,  and  with  a  wreath  of  nastur- 
tiums, convolvuluses,  and  wallflowers  within)  ;  and  then 
said,  "  Give  me  the  peignoir,  Mr.  Archibald,  if  you 
please;  "  and  Eglantine,  who  would  do  anything  for  her 
when  she  called  him  Archibald,  immediately  produced 
that  garment,  and  wrapped  round  the  delicate  shoulders 
of  the  lady,  who  removing  a  sham  gold  chain  which  she 
w^ore  on  her  forehead,  two  brass  hair-combs  set  with  glass 
rubies,  and  the  comb  which  kept  her  back  hair  together, — 
removing  them,   I   say,   and   turning  her   great   eyes 


THE   RAVENSWING  259 

towards  the  stranger,  and  giving  her  head  a  shake,  down 
let  tumble  such  a  flood  of  shining,  waving,  heavy,  glossy, 
jetty  hair,  as  would  have  done  jNIr.  Rowland's  heart  good 
to  see.  It  tumbled  down  Miss  Morgiana's  back,  and  it 
tumbled  over  her  shoulders,  it  tumbled  over  the  chair  on 
which  she  sat,  and  from  the  midst  of  it  her  jolly,  bright- 
eyed,  rosy  face  beamed  out  with  a  triumphant  smile, 
which  said,  "  A'n't  I  now  the  most  angehc  being  you 
ever  saw? " 

"By  heaven!  it's  the  most  beautiful  thing  I   ever 
saw!  "  cried  Mr.  Walker,  with  undisguised  admiration. 

"Isn't  it?  "  said  Mrs.  Crump,  who  made  her  daugh- 
ter's triumph  her  own.  "  Heigho!  when  I  acted  at '  The 
Wells  '  in  1820,  before  that  dear  girl  was  born,  I  had 
such  a  head  of  hair  as  that,  to  a  shade,  sir,  to  a  shade. 
They  called  me  Ravenswing  on  account  of  it.  I  lost  my 
•  head  of  hair  when  that  dear  child  was  born,  and  I  often 
say  to  her,  '  INIorgiana,  you  came  into  the  world  to  rob 
your  mother  of  her  'air.'  Were  you  ever  at '  The  Wells,' 
sir,  in  1820?  Perhaps  you  recollect  Miss  Delancy?  I 
am  that  Miss  Delancy.    Perhaps  you  recollect,— 

"  '  Tink-a-tink,  tink-a-tink, 

By  the  light  of  the  star, 
On  the  blue  river's  brink, 
I  heard  a  guitar. 

"  '  I  heard  a  guitar, 

On  the  blue  waters  clear. 
And  I  knew  by  its  mu-u-sic. 
That  Selim  was  near ! ' 

You  remember  that  in  the  Bagdad  Bells^.     Fatima, 
Delancy;  Selim,  Benlomond  (his  real  name  was  Bun- 


260  MEN'S    WIVES 

nion :  and  he  failed,  poor  fellow,  in  the  public  line  after- 
wards) .  It  was  done  to  the  tambourine,  and  dancing 
between  each  verse,— 

"  '  Tink-a-tink,  tink-a-tink. 

How  the  soft  music  swells, 
And  I  hear  the  soft  clink 
Of  the  minaret  bells ! 

"  '  Tink-a— '  " 

"  Oh!  "  here  cried  Miss  Crump,  as  if  in  exceeding  pain 
(and  whether  JNIr.  Eglantine  had  twitched,  pulled,  or 
hurt  any  one  individual  hair  of  that  lovely  head  I  don't 
know) ,— "  Oh,  you  are  killing  me,  Mr.  Eglantine!  " 

And  with  this  mamma,  who  was  in  her  attitude,  hold- 
ing up  the  end  of  her  boa  as  a  visionary  tambourine,  and 
]Mr.  Walker,  who  was  looking  at  her,  and  in  his  amuse- 
ment at  the  mother's  performances  had  almost  forgotten 
the  charms  of  the  daughter,— both  turned  round  at  once, 
and  looked  at  her  with  many  expressions  of  sympathy, 
while  Eglantine,  in  a  voice  of  reproach,  said  "Killed 
you,  Morgiana!    I  kill  you?'" 

"  I'm  better  now,"  said  the  young  lady,  with  a  smile,— 
"  I'm  better,  Mr.  Archibald,  now."  And  if  the  truth 
must  be  told,  no  greater  coquette  than  Miss  INIorgiana 
existed  in  all  May  fair,— no,  not  among  the  most  fash- 
ionable mistresses  of  the  fashionable  valets  who  fre- 
quented the  "  Bootjack."  She  beheved  herself  to  be  the 
most  fascinating  creature  that  the  world  ever  produced ; 
she  never  saw  a  stranger  but  she  tried  these  fascinations 
upon  him;  and  her  charms  of  manner  and  person  were 
of  that  showy  sort  which  is  most  popular  in  this  world, 
where  people  are  wont  to  admire  most  that  which  gives 


THE   RAVENSWING  261 

them  the  least  trouble  to  see;  and  so  you  will  find  a  tulip 
of  a  woman  to  be  in  fashion  when  a  little  humble  violet  or 
daisy  of  creation  is  passed  over  without  remark.  ]SIor- 
giana  was  a  tulip  among  women,  and  the  tulip-fanciers 
all  came  flocking  round  her. 

Well,  the  said  "Oh!"  and  "I'm  better  now,  Mr. 
Archibald,"  thereby  succeeded  in  drawing  everybody's 
attention  to  her  lovely  self.  By  the  latter  words  Mr. 
Eglantine  was  specially  inflamed;  he  glanced  at  jSIr. 
Walker,  and  said,  "  Capting!  didn't  I  tefl  you  she  was  a 
creecher?  See  her  hair,  sir:  it's  as  black  and  as  glossy 
as  satting.  It  weighs  fifteen  pound,  that  hair,  sir;  and 
I  wouldn't  let  my  apprentice— that  blundering  Moss- 
rose,  for  instance  (hang  him!)  —I  wouldn't  let  any  one 
but  myself  dress  that  hair  for  five  hundred  guineas!  Ah, 
Miss  JNIorgiana,  remember  that  you  may  always  have 
Eglantine  to  dress  your  hair!— remember  that,  that's 
all."  And  with  this  the  worthy  gentleman  began  rub- 
bing delicately  a  little  of  the  Eglantinia  into  those  am- 
brosial locks,  which  he  loved  with  all  the  love  of  a  man 
and  an  artist. 

And  as  for  Morgiana  showing  her  hair,  I  hope  none 
of  my  readers  wiH  entertain  a  bad  opinion  of  the  poor 
girl  for  doing  so.  Her  locks  were  her  pride;  she  acted 
at  the  private  theatre  "hair  parts,"  where  she  could 
appear  on  purpose  to  show  them  in  a  dislievelled  state; 
and  that  her  modesty  was  real  and  not  afl'ected  may  be 
proved  by  the  fact  that  when  Mr.  Walker,  stepping  up 
in  the  midst  of  EgUmtine's  last  speech,  took  hold  of  a 
lock  of  her  hair  very  gently  with  his  hand,  she  cried 
"  Oh!  "  and  started  with  all  her  might.  And  Mr.  Eg- 
lantine observed  very  gravely,  "Ca])ting!  INIiss  Crump's 
hair  is  to  be  seen  and  not  to  be  touched,  if  you  please." 


262  MEN'S    WIVES 

"No  more  it  is,  Mr.  Eglantine,"  said  her  mamma; 
"  and  now,  as  it's  come  to  my  turn,  I  beg  the  gentleman 
will  be  so  obliging  as  to  go." 

"  Must  I?  "  cried  Mr.  Walker ;  and  as  it  was  half -past 
six,  and  he  was  engaged  to  dinner  at  the  "  Regent 
Club,"  and  as  he  did  not  wish  to  make  Eglantine  jeal- 
ous, who  evidently  was  annoyed  by  his  staying,  he 
took  his.  hat  just  as  Miss  Crump's  coiffure  was 
completed,  and  saluting  her  and  her  mamma,  left  the 
room. 

"  A  tip-top  swell,  I  can  assure  you,"  said  Eglantine, 
nodding  after  him:  "a  regular  bang-up  chap,  and  no 
mistake.  Intimate  with  the  Marquess  of  Billingsgate, 
and  Lord  Vauxhall,  and  that  set." 

"  He's  very  genteel,"  said  Mrs.  Crump. 

"Law!  I'm  sure  I  think  nothing  of  him,"  said  Mor- 
giana. 

And  Captain  Walker  walked  towards  his  club,  medi- 
tating on  the  beauties  of  Morgiana.  "  What  hair,"  said 
he,  "  what  eyes  the  girl  has!  they're  as  big  as  billiard- 
balls;  and  5,000/.  Eglantine's  in  luck!  5,000/.— she 
can't  have  it,  it's  impossible ! " 

No  sooner  was  Mrs.  Crump's  front  arranged,  during 
the  time  of  which  operation  Morgiana  sat  in  perfect 
contentment  looking  at  the  last  French  fashions  in  the 
Courrier  des  Dames,  and  thinking  how  her  pink  satin 
slip  would  dye,  and  make  just  such  a  mantilla  as  that 
represented  in  the  engraving, — no  sooner  was  Mrs. 
Crump's  front  arranged,  than  both  ladies,  taking  leave 
of  Mr.  Eglantine,  tripped  back  to  the  "  Bootjack  Ho- 
tel "  in  the  neighbourhood,  where  a  very  neat  green  fly 
was  already  in  waiting,  the  gentleman  on  the  box  of 
which  (from  a  livery-stable  in  the  neighbourhood)  gave 


THE   RAVENSWING  263 

a  knowing  touch  to  his  hat,  and  a  salute  with  his  whip, 
to  the  two  ladies,  as  they  entered  the  tavern. 

*'  Mr.  W.'s  inside,"  said  the  man— a  driver  from  Mr. 
Snaffle's  establishment;  "  he's  been  in  and  out  this  score 
of  times,  and  looking  down  the  street  for  you."  And 
in  the  house,  in  fact,  was  INIr.  Woolsey,  the  tailor,  who 
had  hired  the  fly,  and  was  engaged  to  conduct  the  ladies 
that  evening  to  the  play. 

It  was  really  rather  too  bad  to  think  that  Miss  Mor- 
giana,  after  going  to  one  lover  to  have  her  hair  dressed, 
should  go  with  another  to  the  play;  but  such  is  the  way 
with  lovely  woman!  Let  her  have  a  dozen  admirers, 
and  the  dear  coquette  will  exercise  her  power  upon  them 
all :  and  as  a  lady,  when  she  has  a  large  wardrobe,  and  a 
taste  for  variety  in  dress,  will  apj^ear  every  day  in  a  dif- 
ferent costume,  so  will  the  young  and  giddy  beauty  wear 
her  lovers,  encouraging  now  the  black  whiskers,  now 
smiling  on  the  brown,  now  thinking  that  the  gay  smiling 
rattle  of  an  admirer  becomes  her  very  well,  and  now 
adopting  the  sad  sentimental  melancholy  one,  according 
as  her  changeful  fancy  prompts  her.  Let  us  not  be  too 
angry  with  these  uncertainties  and  caprices  of  beauty; 
and  depend  on  it  that,  for  the  most  part,  those  females 
who  cry  out  loudest  against  the  flightiness  of  their  sis- 
ters, and  rebuke  their  undue  encouragement  of  this  man 
or  that,  would  do  as  much  themselves  if  they  had  the 
chance,  and  are  constant,  as  I  am  to  my  coat  just  now, 
because  I  have  no  other. 

"Did  you  sec  Doubleyou,  'Gina  dear?"  said  her 
mamma,  addressing  that  young  lady.  "  He's  in  the  bar 
with  your  Pa,  and  has  his  military  coat  with  the  king's 
buttons,  and  looks  like  an  officer." 

This  was  Mr.  Woolsey's  style,  his  great  aim  being  to 


264  MEN'S   WIVES 

look  like  an  army  gent,  for  many  of  whom  he  in  his 
capacity  of  tailor  made  those  splendid  red  and  blue  coats 
which  characterize  our  military.  As  for  the  royal  but- 
ton, had  not  he  made  a  set  of  coats  for  his  late  Majesty, 
George  IV.?  and  he  would  add,  when  he  narrated  this 
circumstance,  "  Sir,  Prince  Blucher  and  Prince  Swartz- 
enberg's  measure's  in  the  house  now;  and  what's  more, 
I've  cut  for  Wellington."  I  believe  he  would  have  gone 
to  St.  Helena  to  make  a  coat  for  Napoleon,  so  great  was 
his  ardour.  He  wore  a  blue  black  wig,  and  his  whiskers 
were  of  the  same  hue.  He  was  brief  and  stern  in  con- 
versation ;  and  he  alw^ays  went  to  masquerades  and  balls 
in  a  field-marshal's  uniform. 

"  He  looks  really  quite  the  thing  to-night,"  continued 
Mrs.  Crump. 

"  Yes,"  said  'Gina;  "  but  he's  such  an  odious  wig,  and 
the  dye  of  his  whiskers  always  comes  oif  on  his  white 
gloves." 

"  Everybody  has  not  their  own  hair,  love,"  continued 
Mrs.  Crump  with  a  sigh;  "  but  Eglantine's  is  beautiful." 

"Every  hairdresser's  is,"  answered  Morgiana,  rather 
contemptuously;  "but  what  I  can't  bear  is  that  their 
fingers  is  always  so  very  fat  and  pudgy." 

In  fact,  something  had  gone  wrong  with  the  fair  Mor- 
giana. Was  it  that  she  had  but  little  liking  for  the  one 
pretender  or  the  other?  Was  it  that  young  Glauber, 
who  acted  Romeo  in  the  private  theatricals,  was  far 
younger  and  more  agreeable  than  either?  Or  was  it, 
that  seeing  a  7'eal  gentleman,  such  as  ]Mr.  Walker,  with 
whom  she  had  had  her  first  interview,  she  felt  more  and 
more  the  want  of  refinement  in  her  other  declared  ad- 
mirers? Certain,  however,  it  is,  that  she  was  very 
reserved  all  the  evening,  in  spite  of  the  attentions  of 


THE   RAVENSWING  265 

Mr.  Woolsey;  that  she  repeatedly  looked  round  at  the 
box-door,  as  if  she  expected  some  one  to  enter ;  and  that 
she  partook  of  only  a  very  few  oysters,  indeed,  out  of 
the  barrel  which  the  gallant  tailor  had  sent  down  to  the 
"  Bootjack,"  and  off  which  the  party  supped. 

"  What  is  it?  "  said  Mr.  Woolsey  to  his  ally,  Crump, 
as  they  sat  together  after  the  retirement  of  the  ladies. 
"  She  was  dumb  all  night.  She  never  once  laughed  at 
the  farce,  nor  cried  at  the  tragedy,  and  you  know  she 
laughs  and  cries  uncommon.  She  only  took  half  her 
negus,  and  not  above  a  quarter  of  her  beer." 

"  No  more  she  did!  "  replied  Mr.  Crump,  very  calmly. 
"  I  think  it  must  be  the  barber  as  has  been  captivating 
her:  he  dressed  her  hair  for  the  play." 

"  Hang  him,  I'll  shoot  him!  "  said  Mr.  Woolsey.  "  A 
fat,  foolish,  effeminate  beast  like  that  marry  Miss  Mor- 
giana?  Never!  I  will  shoot  him.  I'll  provoke  him  next 
Saturday— I'll  tread  on  his  toe— I'll  pull  his  nose!  " 

"No  quarrelling  at  the  'Kidneys!'"  answered 
Crump  sternly;  "there  shall  be  no  quarrelling  in  that 
room  as  long  as  Z'r/i  in  the  chair!  " 

"  Well,  at  any  rate  you'll  stand  my  friend?  " 

"  You  know  I  will,"  answered  the  other.  "  You  are 
honourable,  and  I  like  you  better  than  Eglantine.  I 
trust  you  more  than  Eglantine,  sir.  You're  more  of  a 
man  that  Eglantine,  though  you  arc  a  tailor;  and  I 
wish  with  all  my  heart  you  may  get  ;Morgiana.  Mrs.  C. 
goes  the  other  way,  I  know :  but  I  tell  you  what,  women 
will  go  their  own  ways,  sir,  and  Morgy's  like  her  mother 
in  this  point,  and  depend  upon  it,  Morgy  will  decide  for 
herself." 

Mr.  Woolsey  presently  went  home,  still  persisting  in 
his  plan  for  the  assassination  of  Eglantine.  Mr.  Crump 


266  MEN'S   WIVES 

went  to  bed  very  quietly,  and  snored  through  the  night 
in  his  usual  tone.  Mr.  Eglantine  passed  some  feverish 
moments  of  jealousy,  for  he  had  come  down  to  the  club 
in  the  evening,  and  had  heard  that  Morgiana  was  gone 
to  the  play  with  his  rival.  And  ]Miss  Morgiana  dreamed 
of  a  man  who  was— must  we  say  it?— exceedingly  like 
Captain  Howard  Walker.  "  Mrs.  Captain  So-and-so!  " 
thought  she.    "  Oh,  I  do  love  a  gentleman  dearly!  " 

And  about  this  time,  too,  Mr.  Walker  himself  came 
rolling  home  from  the  "  Regent,"  hiccupping,  "  Such 
hair!— such  eyebrows!— such  eyes!  hke  b-b-billiard-balls, 
by  Jove!" 


CHAPTER    II 

IN    WHICH    MR.    WALKER    MAKES    THREE    ATTEMPTS    TO    ASCERTAIN 
THE    DWELLING    OF    MORGIANA 

THE  day  after  the  dinner  at  the  "  Regent  Club," 
JNIr.  Walker  stepped  over  to  the  shop  of  his  friend 
the  perfumer,  where,  as  usual,  the  young  man,  Mr. 
Mossrose,  was  established  in  the  front  premises. 

For  some  reason  or  other,  the  Captain  was  particu- 
larly good-humoured ;  and,  quite  forgetful  of  the  words 
which  had  passed  between  him  and  Mr.  Eglantine's  lieu- 
tenant the  day  before,  began  addressing  the  latter  with 
extreme  cordiality. 

"  A  good  morning  to  you,  Mr.  Mossrose,"  said  Cap- 
tain Walker.  "  Why,  sir,  you  look  as  fresh  as  your 
namesake, — you  do,  indeed,  now,  Mossrose." 

"  You  look  ash  yellow  ash  a  guinea,"  responded  Mr. 
INIossrose,  sulkily.  He  thought  the  Captain  was  hoax- 
ing him. 


THE   RAVENSWING  267 

"  My  good  sir,"  replies  the  other,  nothing  cast  down, 
"  I  drank  rather  too  freety  last  night." 

"  The  more  beast  you!  "  said  Mr.  Mossrose. 

*'  Thank  you,  ^Mossrose;  the  same  to  you,"  answered 
the  Captain. 

"  If  you  call  me  a  beast  I'll  punch  your  head  off!  " 
answered  the  young  man,  who  had  much  skill  in  the  art 
which  many  of  his  brethren  practise. 

"  I  didn't,  my  fine  fellow,"  replied  Walker.  "  On 
the  contrary,  you—" 

"  Do  you  mean  to  give  me  the  he?  "  broke  out  the  in- 
dignant Mossrose,  who  hated  the  agent  fiercely,  and  did 
not  in  the  least  care  to  conceal  his  hate. 

In  fact,  it  was  his  fixed  purpose  to  pick  a  quarrel  with 
Walker,  and  to  drive  him,  if  possible,  from  Mr.  Eglan- 
tine's shop.  "  Do  you  mean  to  give  me  the  lie,  I  say, 
]Mr.  Hooker  Walker? " 

'Tor  heaven's  sake,  Amos,  hold  your  tongue!"  ex- 
claimed the  Captain,  to  whom  the  name  of  Hooker  was 
as  poison;  but  at  this  moment  a  customer  stepping  in, 
Mr.  Amos  exchanged  his  ferocious  aspect  for  a  bland 
grin,  and  Mr.  Walker  walked  into  the  studio. 

When  in  iVIr.  Eglantine's  presence,  Walker,  too,  was 
all  smiles  in  a  minute,  sunk  down  on  a  settee,  held  out  his 
■and  to  the  perfumer,  and  began  confidentially  dis- 
coursing with  him. 

'"  Such  a  dinner,  Tiny  my  boy,"  said  he;  "  such  prime 
fellows  to  eat  it,  too!  Billingsgate,  Vauxhall,  Cinqbars, 
Buff  of  the  Blues,  and  half-a-dozen  more  of  the  best 
fellows  in  town.  And  what  do  you  think  the  dinner 
cost  a  head?    I'll  wager  you'll  never  guess." 

"  Was  it  two  guineas  a  head?— In  course  I  mean  with- 
out wine,"  said  the  genteel  perfumer. 


268  MEN'S   WIVES 

"  Guess  again! " 

"  Well,  was  it  ten  guineas  a  head?  I'll  guess  any 
sum  you  please,"  replied  Mr.  Eglantine:  "  for  I  know 
that  when  you  nobs  are  together,  you  don't  spare  your 
money.  I  myself,  at  the  '  Star  and  Garter '  at  Rich- 
mond, once  paid—" 

"  Eighteenpence? " 

"  Heighteenj)ence,  sir  I— I  paid  five-and-thirty  shil- 
lings per  'ead.  I'd  have  you  to  know  that  I  can  act  as  a 
gentleman  as  well  as  any  other  gentleman,  sir,"  an- 
swered the  perfumer  with  much  dignity. 

"  Well,  eighteenpence  was  what  we  paid,  and  not  a 
rap  more  upon  my  honour." 

"  Nonsense,  you're  joking.  The  Marquess  of  Bil- 
linsgate  dine  for  eighteenpence?  Why,  hang  it,  if  I 
was  a  marquess,  I'd  pay  a  five-pound  note  for  my 
lunch." 

"  You  little  know  the  person,  Master  Eglantine," 
replied  the  Captain,  with  a  smile  of  contemptuous  supe- 
riority; "you  httle  know  the  real  man  of  fashion,  my 
good  fellow.  Simplicity,  sir,— simplicity's  the  charac- 
teristic of  the  real  gentleman,  and  so  I'll  tell  you  what 
we  had  for  dinner." 

"  Turtle  and  venison,  of  course:— no  nob  dines  with- 
out them/' 

"Psha!  we're  sick  of  'em!  We  had  pea-soup  and 
boiled  tripe!  What  do  you  think  of  that?  We  had 
sprats  and  herrings,  a  bullock's  heart,  a  baked  shoulder 
of  mutton  and  potatoes,  pig's-fry  and  Irish  stew.  I 
ordered  the  dinner,  sir,  and  got  more  credit  for  invent- 
ing it  than  they  ever  gave  to  Ude  or  Soyer.  The  Mar- 
quess was  in  ecstasies,  the  Earl  devoured  half  a  bushel 
of  sprats,  and  if  the  Viscount  is  not  laid  up  with  a  sur- 


THE   RAVENSWIXG  269 

feit  of  bullock's  heart,  my  name's  not  Howard  Walker. 
Billy,  as  I  call  him,  was  in  the  chair,  and  gave  n^  health; 
and  what  do  you  think  the  rascal  proposed?  " 

"  What  did  his  lordship  propose?  " 

"  That  every  man  present  should  subscribe  twopence, 
and  pay  for  my  share  of  the  dinner.  By  Jove !  it  is  true, 
and  the  money  was  handed  to  me  in  a  pewter-pot,  of 
which  thej'  also  begged  to  make  me  a  present.  We 
afterwards  went  to  Tom  Spring's,  from  Tom's  to  the 
'  Finish,'  from  the  '  Finish  '  to  the  watch-house— that  is, 
they  did,— and  sent  for  me,  just  as  I  was  getting  into 
bed,  to  bail  them  all  out." 

"  They're  happy  dogs,  those  young  noblemen,"  said 
Mr.  Eglantine;  "nothing  but  pleasure  from  morning 
till  night;  no  affectation  neither,— no  lioture;  but  manly, 
downright,  straightforward  good  fellows." 

"  Should  you  like  to  meet  them,  Tiny  my  boy?  "  said 
the  Captain. 

"  If  I  did,  sir,  I  hope  I  should  show  myself  to  be  the 
gentleman,"  answered  Mr.  Eglantine. 

"  Well,  you  shall  meet  them,  and  Lady  BilHngsgate 
shall  order  her  perfumes  at  your  shop.  We  are  going 
to  dine,  next  week,  all  our  set,  at  mealy- faced  Bob's,  and 
you  shall  be  my  guest,"  cried  the  Captain,  slapping  the 
delighted  artist  on  the  back.  "  And  now,  my  boy,  tell 
me  how  you  spent  the  evening." 

"  At  my  club,  sir,"  answered  Mr.  Eglantine,  blushing 
rather. 

"What!  not  at  the  play  with  the  lovely  black-eyed 
Miss— what  is  her  name.  Eglantine?  " 

"  Never  mind  her  name.  Captain,"  replied  Eglantine, 
partly  from  prudence  and  partly  from  shame.  Pie  had 
not  the  heart  to  own  it  was  Crump,  and  he  did  not  care 


270  MEN'S   WIVES 

that   the   Captain   should   know   more   of   his  destined 
bride. 

"  You  wish  to  keep  the  five  thousand  to  yourself —eh, 
3'ou  rogue?"  responded  the  Captain,  with  a  good-hu- 
moured air,  although  exceedingly  mortified;  for,  to  say 
the  truth,  he  had  put  himself  to  the  trouble  of  telling 
the  above  long  story  of  the  dinner,  and  of  promising  to 
introduce  Eglantine  to  the  lords,  solely  that  he  might 
elicit  from  that  gentleman's  good-humour  some  further 
particulars  regarding  the  young  lady  with  the  billiard- 
ball  eyes.  It  was  for  the  very  same  reason,  too,  that  he 
had  made  the  attempt  at  reconciliation  with  Mr.  ^loss- 
rose  which  had  just  so  signally  failed.  Nor  would  the 
reader,  did  he  know  Mr.  W.  better,  at  all  require  to  have 
the  above  explanation;  but  as  yet  we  are  only  at  the  first 
chapter  of  his  history,  and  who  is  to  know  what  the  hero's 
motives  can  be  unless  we  take  the  trouble  to  explain? 

Well,  the  little  dignified  answer  of  the  worthy  dealer 
in  bergamot,  "  Never  mind  her  name.  Captain! "  threw 
the  gallant  Captain  quite  aback;  and  though  he  sat  for 
a  quarter  of  an  hour  longer,  and  was  exceedingly  kind; 
and  though  he  threw  out  some  skilful  hints,  yet  the  per- 
fumer was  quite  unconquerable;  or,  rather,  he  was  too 
frightened  to  tell:  the  poor,  fat,  timid,  easy,  good-na- 
tured gentleman  was  always  the  prey  of  rogues,— 
panting  and  floundering  in  one  rascal's  snare  or  an- 
other's. He  had  the  dissimulation,  too,  which  timid  men 
have;  and  felt  the  presence  of  a  victimiser  as  a  hare  does 
of  a  greyhound.  Now  he  would  be  quite  still,  now  he 
would  double,  and  now  he  would  run,  and  then  came  the 
end.  He  knew,  by  his  sure  instinct  of  fear,  that  the  Cap- 
tain had,  in  asking  these  questions,  a  scheme  against 
him,  and  so  he  was  cautious,  and  trembled,  and  doubted. 


THE   RAVENSWING  271 

And  oh!  how  he  thanked  his  stars  when  Lady  Grog- 
more's  chariot  drove  up,  with  the  IVIisses  Grogmore,  who 
wanted  their  hair  dressed,  and  were  going  to  a  break- 
fast at  three  o'clock! 

"  I'll  look  in  again,  Tiny,"  said  the  Captain,  on  hear- 
ing the  summons. 

''  Do,  Captain,"  replied  the  other:  ''  thank  you;  "  and 
went  into  the  lady's  studio  with  a  heavy  heart. 

*'  Get  out  of  the  way,  you  infernal  villain!  "  roared 
the  Captain,  with  many  oaths,  to  Lady  Grogmore's 
large  footman,  with  ruby-coloured  tights,  who  was 
standing  inhaling  the  ten  thousand  perfumes  of  the 
shop;  and  the  latter,  moving  away  in  great  terror,  the 
gallant  agent  passed  out,  quite  heedless  of  the  grin  of 
Mr.  Mossrose. 

Walker  was  in  a  fury  at  his  want  of  success,  and 
walked  down  Bond  Street  in  a  fury.  "  I  will  know 
where  the  girl  lives!"  swore  he.  "I'll  spend  a  five- 
pound  note,  by  Jove!  rather  than  not  know  where  she 
lives!  " 

"  That  you  would— I  know  you  would! "  said  a  little 
grave  low  voice,  all  of  a  sudden,  by  his  side.  "  Pooh! 
what's  money  to  you? " 

Walker  looked  down;  it  was  Tom  Dale. 

Who  in  London  did  not  know  little  Tom  Dale?  He 
had  cheeks  like  an  apple,  and  his  hair  curled  every  morn- 
ing, and  a  little  blue  stock,  and  always  two  new  maga- 
zines under  his  arm,  and  an  umbrella  and  a  little  brown 
frock-coat,  and  big  square-toed  shoes  with  which  he  went 
jjajJinng  down  the  street.  He  was  everywhere  at  once. 
Everybody  met  him  every  day,  and  he  knew  everything 
that  everybody  ever  did;  though  nobody  ever  knew  what 
he  did.    He  was,  they  say,  a  hundred  years  old,  and  had 


272  MEN'S   WIVES 

never  dined  at  his  own  charge  once  in  those  hundred 
years.  He  looked  hke  a  figure  out  of  a  wax-work,  with 
glassy,  clear,  meaningless  eyes:  he  always  spoke  with  a 
grin;  he  knew  what  you  had  for  dinner  the  day  before 
he  met  you,  and  what  everybody  had  had  for  dinner  for 
a  century  back  almost.  He  was  the  receptacle  of  all  the 
scandal  of  all  the  world,  from  Bond  Street  to  Bread 
Street;  he  knew  all  the  authors,  all  the  actors,  all  the 
"  notorieties  "  of  the  town,  and  the  private  histories  of 
each.  That  is,  he  never  knew  anything  really,  but  sup- 
plied deficiencies  of  truth  and  memory,  with  ready- 
coined,  never-failing  lies.  He  was  the  most  benevolent 
man  in  the  universe,  and  never  saw  you  without  telling 
you  everything  most  cruel  of  your  neighbour,  and  when 
he  left  you  he  went  to  do  the  same  kind  turn  by  yourself. 

"Pooh!  what's  money  to  you,  my  dear  boy?"  said 
little  Tom  Dale,  who  had  just  come  out  of  Ebers's,  where 
he  had  been  filching  an  opera- ticket.  "  You  make  it  in 
bushels  in  the  City,  you  know  you  do, — in  thousands.  I 
saw  you  go  into  Eglantine's.  Fine  business  that;  finest 
in  London.  Five-shilling  cakes  of  soap,  my  dear  bo3^ 
I  can't  wash  with  such.  Thousands  a  year  that  man  has 
made — hasn't  he?  " 

"  Upon  my  word,  Tom,  I  don't  know,"  says  the  Cap- 
tain. 

''  You  not  know?  Don't  tell  me.  You  know  every- 
thing— you  agents.  You  know  he  makes  five  thousand 
a  year, — ay,  and  might  make  ten,  but  you  know  why  he 
don't." 

"  Indeed  I  don't." 

"  Nonsense.  Don't  humbug  a  poor  old  fellow  like  me. 
Jews — Amos — fifty  per  cent.,  ay?  Why  can't  he  get 
his  money  from  a  good  Christian?  " 


THE   RAVENSWING  273 

"  I  have  heard  something  of  that  sort,"  said  Walker, 
laughing.  "  Why,  by  Jove,  Tom,  you  know  every- 
thing!" 

"  You  know  everything,  my  dear  boy.  You  know 
what  a  rascally  trick  that  opera  creature  served  him, 
poor  fellow.  Cashmere  shawls — Storr  and  JNIortimer's 
—  Star  and  Garter.  Much  better  dine  quiet  off  pea- 
soup  and  sprats, — ay?  His  betters  have,  as  you  know 
very  well." 

"Pea-soup  and  sprats!  What!  have  you  heard  of 
that  already? " 

"  Who  bailed  Lord  Billingsgate,  ay,  you  rogue? " 
and  here  Tom  gave  a  knowing  and  almost  demoniacal 
grin.  "Who  wouldn't  go  to  the  '  Finish?'  Who  had 
the  piece  of  plate  presented  to  him  filled  with  sovereigns  ? 
And  you  deserved  it,  my  dear  boy— you  deserved  it. 
They  said  it  was  only  halfpence,  but  /  know  better!" 
and  here  Tom  went  off  in  a  cough. 

"  I  say,  Tom,"  cried  Walker,  inspired  with  a  sudden 
thought,  "  3^ou,  who  know  everything,  and  are  a  theatri- 
cal man,  did  you  ever  know  a  Miss  Delancy,  an  actress?  " 

"At 'Sadler's  Wells 'in '16?  Of  course  I  did.  Real 
name  was  Budge.  Lord  Slapper  admired  her  verj'' 
much,  my  dear  boy.  She  married  a  man  by  the  name  of 
Crump,  his  lordship's  black  footman,  and  brought  him 
five  thousand  pounds;  and  they  keep  the  'Bootjack' 
public-house  in  Bunker's  Buildings,  and  they've  got 
fourteen  children.  Is  one  of  them  handsome,  eh,  you 
sly  rogue,— and  is  it  that  wliich  you  will  give  five  pounds 
to  know?  God  bless  you,  my  dear,  dear  boy.  Jones,  my 
dear  friend,  how  are  you?  " 

And  now,  seizing  on  Jones,  Tom  Dale  left  Mr. 
Walker  alone,  and  proceeded  to  pour  into  INIr.  Jones's 


274  MEN'S   WIVES 

ear  an  account  of  the  individual  whom  he  had  just 
quitted;  how  he  was  the  best  fellow  in  the  world,  and 
Jones  knew  it;  how  he  was  in  a  fine  way  of  making  his 
fortune ;  how  he  had  been  in  the  Fleet  many  times,  and 
how  he  was  at  this  moment  employed  in  looking  out  for 
a  3^oung  lady  of  whom  a  certain  great  marquess  (whom 
Jones  knew  very  well,  too)  had  expressed  an  admira- 
tion. 

But  for  these  observations,  which  he  did  not  hear, 
Captain  Walker,  it  may  be  pronounced,  did  not  care. 
His  eyes  brightened  up,  he  marched  quickly  and  gaily 
away;  and  turning  into  his  own  chambers  opposite  Eg- 
lantine's shop,  saluted  that  establishment  with  a  grin  of 
triumph.  "  You  wouldn't  tell  me  her  name,  wouldn't 
you?"  said  Mr.  Walker.  "Well,  the  luck's  with  me 
now,  and  here  goes." 

Two  days  after,  as  Mr.  Eglantine,  with  white  gloves 
and  a  case  of  eau-de-Cologne  as  a  present  in  his  pocket, 
arrived  at  the  "  Bootjack  Hotel,"  Little  Bunker's  Build- 
ings, Berkeley  Square  (for  it  must  out — that  was  the 
place  in  which  Mr.  Crump's  inn  was  situated) ,  he  paused 
for  a  moment  at  the  threshold  of  the  little  house  of  enter- 
tainment, and  listened,  with  beating  heart,  to  the  sound 
of  delicious  music  that  a  well-known  voice  was  uttering 
within. 

The  moon  was  playing  in  silvery  brightness  down  the 
gutter  of  the  humble  street.  A  "  helper,"  rubbing  down 
one  of  Lady  Smigsmag's  carriage-horses,  even  paused 
in  his  whistle  to  listen  to  the  strain.  Mr.  Tressle's  man, 
who  had  been  professionally  occupied,  ceased  his  tap- 
tap  upon  the  coffin  which  he  was  getting  in  readiness. 
The  greengrocer  (there  is  always  a  greengrocer  in  those 
narrow  streets,  and  he  goes  out  in  white  Berlin  gloves 


THE   RAVENSWING  275 

as  a  supernumerary  footman)  was  standing  charmed  at 
his  httle  green  gate;  the  cobbler  (there  is  always  a  cob- 
bler too)  was  drunk,  as  usual,  of  evenings,  but,  with 
unusual  subordination,  never  sung  except  when  the  re- 
frain of  the  ditty  arrived,  when  he  hiccupped  it  forth 
with  tipsy  loyalty;  and  Eglantine  leaned  against  the 
Chequers  painted  on  the  door-side  under  the  name  of 
Crump,  and  looked  at  the  red  illumined  curtain  of  the 
bar,  and  the  vast,  well-known  shadow  of  Mrs.  Crump's 
turban  within.  Now  and  again  the  shadow  of  that 
worthy  matron's  hand  would  be  seen  to  grasp  the 
shadow  of  a  bottle ;  then  the  shadow  of  a  cup  would  rise 
towards  the  turban,  and  still  the  strain  proceeded.  Eg- 
lantine, I  say,  took  out  his  yellow  bandanna,  and  brushed 
the  beady  drops  from  his  brow,  and  laid  the  contents  of 
his  white  kids  on  his  heart,  and  sighed  with  ecstatic  sym- 
pathy.   The  song  began,— 

"  Come  to  the  greenwood  tree,^ 
Come  where  the  dark  woods  be, 
Dearest,  O  come  with  me ! 
Let  us  rove — O  my  love — O  my  love! 

O  my-y  love !  " 
{Drunken  Cobbler  without) —  "  0  my-y  love!" 

"  Beast!  "  saj^s  Eglantine. 

"  Come — 'tis  the  moonlight  hour, 
Dew  is  on  leaf  and  flower, 
Come  to  the  linden  bower, — 
Let  us  rove — O  my  love — O  my  love! 
Let  us  ro-o-ove,  lurlurliety ;  yes,  we'll  rove,  lurlurliety, 
Through  the  gro-o-ove,  lurlurliety  —  lurlurli-e-i-e-i-e-i !  " 
{Cobbler  as  usual)—  "  Let  us  ro-o-ovc,"  &c. 

1  The  words  of  this  sonf?  are  copyright,  nor  will  the  copyright  be  sold 
for  less  than  twopence-halfpenny. 


276  MEN'S   WIVES 

"  You  here?  "  says  another  individual,  coming  dink- 
ing  up  the  street,  in  a  mihtary-cut  dress-coat,  the  buttons 
whereof  shone  very  bright  in  the  moonhght.  "  You 
here,  Eglantine? — You're  always  here." 

"  Hush,  Woolsey,"  said  Mr.  Eglantine  to  his  rival 
the  tailor  (for  he  was  the  individual  in  question)  ;  and 
Woolsey,  accordingly,  put  his  back  against  the  opposite 
door-post  and  chequers,  so  that  (with  poor  Eglantine's 
bulk)  nothing  much  thicker  than  a  sheet  of  paper  could 
pass  out  or  in.  And  thus  these  two  amorous  caryatides 
kept  guard  as  the  song  continued: — 

"  Dark  is  the  wood,  and  wide, 
Dangers,  they  say,  betide ; 
But,  at  my  Albert's  side, 
Nought  I  fear,  O  my  love — O  my  love! 

"  Welcome  the  greenwood  tree, 
Welcome  the  forest  tree. 
Dearest,  with  thee,  with  thee, 
Nought  I  fear,  O  my  love — O  ma-a-y  love! " 

Eglantine's  fine  eyes  were  filled  with  tears  as  Mor- 
giana  passionately  uttered  the  above  beautiful  words. 
Little  Woolsey's  eyes  glistened,  as  he  clenched  his  fist 
with  an  oath,  and  said,  "  Show  me  any  singing  that  can 
beat  that.  Cobbler,  shut  your  mouth,  or  I'll  break  your 
head!" 

But  the  cobbler,  regardless  of  the  threat,  continued  to 
perform  the  "  Lurlurliety  "  with  great  accuracy;  and 
when  that  was  ended,  both  on  his  part  and  Morgiana's, 
a  rapturous  knocking  of  glasses  was  heard  in  the  little 
bar,  then  a  great  clapping  of  hands,  and  finally,  some- 
body shouted  "  Brava ! " 


THE   RAVENSWING  277 

"Brava!" 

At  that  word  Eglantine  turned  deadly  pale,  then  gave 
a  start,  then  a  rush  forward,  which  pinned,  or  rather 
cushioned,  the  tailor  against  the  wall ;  then  twisting  him- 
self abruptly  round,  he  sprung  to  the  door  of  the  bar, 
and  bounced  into  that  apartment. 

"  How  are  you,  my  nosegay?  "  exclaimed  the  same 
voice  which  had  shouted  "  Brava."  It  was  that  of  Cap- 
tain Walker. 

At  ten  o'clock  the  next  morning,  a  gentleman,  with 
the  King's  button  on  his  military  coat,  walked  abruptly 
into  Mr.  Eglantine's  shop,  and,  turning  on  Mr.  Moss- 
rose,  said,  "  Tell  your  master  I  want  to  see  him." 

"  He's  in  his  studio,"  said  Mr.  Mossrose. 

"  Well,  then,  fellow,  go  and  fetch  him !  " 

And  Mossrose,  thinking  it  must  be  the  Lord  Cham- 
berlain, or  Doctor  Prsetorius  at  least,  walked  into  the 
studio,  where  the  perfumer  was  seated  in  a  very  glossy 
old  silk  dressing-gown,  his  fair  hair  hanging  over  his 
white  face,  his  double  chin  over  his  flaccid,  whitey-brown 
shirt-collar,  his  pea-green  slippers  on  the  hob,  and,  on 
the  fire,  the  pot  of  chocolate  which  was  simmering  for 
his  breakfast.  A  lazier  fellow  than  poor  Eglantine  it 
would  be  hard  to  find ;  whereas,  on  the  contrary,  Woolsey 
was  always  up  and  brushed,  spick-and-span,  at  seven 
o'clock ;  and  had  gone  through  his  books,  and  given  out 
the  work  for  the  journeymen,  and  eaten  a  hearty  break- 
fast of  rashers  of  bacon,  before  Eglantine  had  put  the 
usual  pound  of  grease  to  his  hair  (liis  fingers  were  al- 
ways as  damp  and  shiny  as  if  he  had  them  in  a  pomatum- 
pot)  ,  and  arranged  his  figure  for  the  day. 

"  Here's  a  gent  wants  you  in  the  shop,"  says  Mr. 
Mossrose,  leaving  the  door  of  communication  wide  open. 


278  MEN'S  WIVES 

"  Say  I'm  in  bed,  Mr.  Mossrose;  I'm  out  of  sperrets, 
and  really  can  see  nobody." 

"  It's  some  one  from  Vindsor,  I  think;  he's  got  the 
royal  button,"  says  Mossrose. 

"  It's  me— Woolsey,"  shouted  the  little  man  from 
the  shop. 

Mr.  Eglantine  at  this  jumped  up,  made  a  rush  to  the 
door  leading  to  his  private  apartment,  and  disappeared 
in  a  twinkling.  But  it  must  not  be  imagined  that  he 
fled  in  order  to  avoid  Mr.  Woolsey.  He  only  went  away 
for  one  minute  just  to  put  on  his  belt,  for  he  was 
ashamed  to  be  seen  w^ithout  it  by  his  rival. 

This  being  assumed,  and  his  toilet  somewhat  ar- 
ranged, Mr.  Woolsey  was  admitted  into  his  private 
room.  And  Mossrose  would  have  heard  every  word  of 
the  conversation  between  those  two  gentlemen,  had  not 
Woolsey,  opening  the  door,  suddenly  pounced  on  the 
assistant,  taken  him  by  the  collar,  and  told  him  to  disap- 
pear altogether  into  the  shop :  which  ^lossrose  did ;  vow- 
ing he  would  have  his  revenge. 

The  subject  on  which  Woolsey  had  come  to  treat  was 
an  important  one.  "  Mr.  Eglantine,"  says  he,  "  there's 
no  use  disguising  from  one  another  that  we  are  both  of 
us  in  love  with  Miss  Morgiana,  and  that  our  chances  up 
to  this  time  have  been  pretty  equal.  But  that  Captain 
whom  you  introduced,  like  an  ass  as  you  were—" 

"  An  ass,  Mr.  Woolsey?  I'd  have  you  to  know,  sir, 
that  I'm  no  more  a  bass  than  you  are,  sir;  and  as  for  in- 
troducing the  Captain,  I  did  no  such  thing." 

"  Well,  well,  he's  got  a-poaching  into  our  preserves 
somehow.  He's  evidently  sweet  upon  the  young  wo- 
man, and  is  a  more  fashionable  chap  than  either  of  us 
two.    We  must  get  him  out  of  the  house,  sir— we  must 


THE   RAVENSWING  279 

circumwent  him;  and  then,  Mr.  Eglantine,  will  be  time 
enough  for  you  and  me  to  try  which  is  the  best  man." 

"  He  the  best  man! "  thought  Eglantine;  "  the  little 
bald,  unsightly  tailor-creature!  A  man  with  no  more 
soul  than  his  smoothing-hiron !  "  The  perfumer,  as  may 
be  imagined,  did  not  utter  this  sentiment  aloud,  but  ex- 
pressed himself  quite  willing  to  enter  into  any  hamicahle 
arrangement,  by  which  the  new  candidate  for  Miss 
Crump's  favour  must  be  thrown  over.  It  was,  accord- 
ingly, agreed  between  the  two  gentlemen  that  they 
should  coalesce  against  the  common  enemy;  that  they 
should,  by  reciting  many  perfectly  well-founded  stories 
in  the  Captain's  disfavour,  influence  the  minds  of  Miss 
Crump's  parents,  and  of  herself,  if  possible,  against  this 
wolf  in  sheep's  clothing;  and  that,  when  they  were  once 
fairly  rid  of  him,  each  should  be  at  liberty,  as  before,  to 
prefer  his  own  claim. 

"  I  have  thought  of  a  subject,"  said  the  little  tailor, 
turning  very  red,  and  hemming  and  hawing  a  great  deal. 
"  I've  thought,  I  say,  of  a  pint,  which  may  be  resorted 
to  with  advantage  at  the  present  juncture,  and  in  which 
each  of  us  may  be  useful  to  the  other.  An  exchange, 
Mr.  Eglantine;  do  you  take?  " 

"  Do  you  mean  an  accommodation-bill?  "  said  Eglan- 
tine, whose  mind  ran  a  good  deal  on  that  species  of  ex- 
change. 

"Pooh,  nonsense,  sir!  The  name  of  our  firm  is,  I 
flatter  myself,  a  little  more  up  in  the  market  than  some 
other  people's  names." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  insult  the  name  of  Archibald  Eg- 
lantine, sir?  I'd  have  you  to  know  that  at  three 
months—" 

"  Nonsense! "  says  Mr.  Woolsey,  mastering  his  emo- 


280  MEN'S   WIVES 

tion.  "  There's  no  use  a-quarrelling,  Mr.  E.:  we're  not 
in  love  with  each  other,  I  know  that.  You  wish  me 
hanged,  or  as  good,  I  know  that!  " 

"  Indeed  I  don't,  sir!  " 

"  You  do,  sir;  I  tell  you,  you  do!  and  what's  more,  I 
wish  the  same  to  you — transported,  at  any  rate!  But 
as  two  sailors,  when  a  boat's  a-sinking,  though  they  hate 
each  other  ever  so  much,  will  helj)  and  bale  the  boat  out ; 
so,  sir,  let  us  act:  let  us  be  the  two  sailors." 

"  Bail,  sir?  "  said  Eglantine,  as  usual  mistaking  the 
drift  of  the  argument.  "I'll  bail  no  man !  If  you're  in 
difficulties,  I  think  you  had  better  go  to  your  senior  part- 
ner, Mr.  Woolsey."  And  Eglantine's  cowardly  little 
soul  was  filled  with  a  savage  satisfaction  to  think  that 
his  enemy  was  in  distress,  and  actually  obliged  to  come 
to  Mm  for  succour. 

"  You're  enough  to  make  Job  swear,  you  great  fat 
stupid  lazy  old  barber!  "  roared  Mr.  Woolsey,  in  a  fury. 

Eglantine  jumped  up  and  made  for  the  bell-rope. 
The  gallant  little  tailor  laughed. 

"  There's  no  need  to  call  in  Betsy,"  said  he.  "  I'm  not 
a-going  to  eat  you.  Eglantine;  you're  a  bigger  man 
than  me:  if  you  were  just  to  fall  on  me,  you'd  smother 
me!    Just  sit  still  on  the  sofa  and  listen  to  reason." 

"  Well,  sir,  pro-ceed,"  said  the  barber  with  a  gasp. 

"  Now,  listen!  What's  the  darling  wish  of  your  heart? 
I  know  it,  sir!  you've  told  it  to  Mr.  Tressle,  sir,  and 
other  gents  at  the  club.  The  darling  wish  of  your  heart, 
sir,  is  to  have  a  slap-up  coat  turned  out  of  the  ateliers  of 
Messrs.  Linsey,  Woolsey  and  Company.  You  said 
you'd  give  twenty  guineas  for  one  of  our  coats,  you 
know  you  did!  Lord  Bolsterton's  a  fatter  man  than 
you,  and  look  what  a  figure  we  turn  him  out.    Can  any 


THE   RAVENSWING  281 

firm  in  England  dress  Lord  Bolsterton  but  us,  so  as  to 
make  his  lordship  look  decent?  I  defy  'em,  sir!  We 
could  have  given  Daniel  Lambert  a  figure!  " 

"  If  I  want  a  coat,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Eglantine,  "  and  I 
don't  deny  it,  there's  some  people  want  a  head  of  hair! " 

"  That's  the  very  point  I  was  coming  to,"  said  the 
tailor,  resuming  the  violent  blush  which  was  mentioned 
as  having  suffused  his  countenance  at  the  beginning  of 
the  conversation.  "  Let  us  have  terms  of  mutual  accom- 
modation. Make  me  a  wig,  Mr.  Eglantine,  and  though 
I  never  yet  cut  a  yard  of  cloth  except  for  a  gentleman, 
I'll  pledge  you  my  word  I'll  make  you  a  coat." 

"  Will  you,  honour  bright?  "  says  Eglantine. 

"  Honour  bright,"  says  the  tailor.  "  Look!  "  and  in 
an  instant  he  drew  from  his  pocket  one  of  those  slips  of 
parchment  which  gentlemen  of  his  profession  carry, 
and  putting  Eglantine  into  the  proper  position,  began 
to  take  the  preliminary  observations.  He  felt  Eglan- 
tine's heart  thump  with  happiness  as  his  measure  passed 
over  that  soft  part  of  the  perfumer's  person. 

Then  pulling  down  the  window-blind,  and  looking 
that  the  door  was  locked,  and  blushing  still  more  deeply 
than  ever,  the  tailor  seated  himself  in  an  arm-chair 
towards  which  Mr.  Eglantine  beckoned  him,  and,  tak- 
ing off  his  black  wig,  exposed  his  head  to  the  great  per- 
ruquier's  gaze.  Mr.  Eglantine  looked  at  it,  measured 
it,  manipulated  it,  sat  for  three  minutes  with  his  head  in 
his  hand  and  his  elbow  on  his  knee  gazing  at  the  tailor's 
cranium  with  all  his  might,  walked  round  it  twice  or 
thrice,  and  then  said,  "  It's  enough,  Mr.  Woolsey.  Con- 
sider the  job  as  done.  And  now,  sir,"  said  he,  with  a 
greatly  relieved  air — "  and  now,  Woolsey,  let  us  'ave  a 
glass  of  cura^oa  to  celebrate  this  hauspicious  meeting." 


282  MEN'S   WIVES 

The  tailor,  however,  stiffly  replied  that  he  never  drank 
in  a  morning,  and  left  the  room  without  offering  to 
shake  INIr.  Eglantine  by  the  hand:  for  he  despised  that 
gentleman  very  heartily,  and  himself,  too,  for  coming 
to  any  compromise  with  him,  and  for  so  far  demeaning 
himself  as  to  make  a  coat  for  a  barber. 

Looking  from  his  chambers  on  the  other  side  of  the 
street,  that  inevitable  Mr.  Walker  saw  the  tailor  issuing 
from  the  perfumer's  shop,  and  was  at  no  loss  to  guess 
that  something  extraordinary  must  be  in  progress  when 
two  such  bitter  enemies  met  together. 


CHAPTER   III 

WHAT   CAME  OF  MR.   WALKEr's   DISCOVERY   OF   THE   "  BOOTJACK  " 

IT  is  very  easy  to  state  how  the  Captain  came  to  take 
up  that  proud  position  at  the  "  Bootjack  "  which  we 
have  seen  him  occupy  on  the  evening  when  the  sound  of 
the  fatal  "  brava  "  so  astonished  Mr.  Eglantine. 

The  mere  entry  into  the  establishment  was,  of  course, 
not  difficult.  Any  person  by  simply  uttering  the  words, 
"  A  pint  of  beer,"  was  free  of  the  "  Bootjack;  "  and  it 
was  some  such  watchword  that  Howard  Walker  em- 
ployed when  he  made  his  first  appearance.  He  requested 
to  be  shown  into  a  parlour  where  he  might  repose  him- 
self for  a  while,  and  was  ushered  into  that  very  sanctum 
where  the  "  Kidney  Club  "  met.  Then  he  stated  that 
the  beer  was  the  best  he  had  ever  tasted,  except  in 
Bavaria,  and  in  some  parts  of  Spain,  he  added;  and 
professing  to  be   extremely   "  peckish,"   requested  to 


THE   RAVENSWING  283 

know  if  there  were  any  cold  meat  in  the  house  whereof 
he  could  make  a  dinner. 

"  I  don't  usually  dine  at  this  hour,  landlord,"  said  he, 
flinging  down  a  half-sovereign  for  payment  of  the 
beer;  "but  your  parlour  looks  so  comfortable  and  the 
Windsor  chairs  are  so  snug,  that  I'm  sure  I  could  not 
dine  better  at  the  first  club  in  London." 

"  One  of  the  first  clubs  in  London  is  held  in  this  very 
room,"  said  Mr.  Crump,  very  well  pleased;  "and  at- 
tended by  some  of  the  best  gents  in  town,  too.  We  call 
it  the  '  Kidney  Club.' " 

"  Why,  bless  my  soul !  it  is  the  very  club  my  friend 
Eglantine  has  so  often  talked  to  me  about,  and  attended 
by  some  of  the  tip-top  tradesmen  of  the  metropolis!  " 

"  There's^  better  men  here  than  Mr.  Eglantine,"  re- 
plied Mr.  Crump;  "though  he's  a  good  man— I  don't 
say  he's  not  a  good  man— but  there's  better.  Mr. 
Chnker,  sir;  Mr.  Woolsey,  of  the  house  of  Linsey, 
Woolsey  and  Co—" 

"The  great  army-clothiers!"  cried  Walker;  "the 
first  house  in  town!  "  and  so  continued,  with  exceeding 
urbanity,  holding  conversation  with  Mr.  Crump,  until 
the  honest  landlord  retired  delighted,  and  told  Mrs. 
Crump  in  the  bar  that  there  was  a  tip-top  swell  in  the 
"  Kidney  "  parlour,  who  was  a-going  to  have  his  dinner 
there. 

Fortune  favoured  the  brave  Captain  in  every  way.  It 
was  just  Mr.  Crump's  own  dinner-hour;  and  on  Mrs. 
Crump  stepping  into  the  parlour  to  ask  the  guest 
whether  he  would  like  a  slice  of  tlie  joint  to  which  the 
family  were  about  to  sit  down,  fancy  that  lady's  start 
of  astonishment  at  recognizing  Mr.  Eglantine's  face- 
tious friend  of  the  day  before.     The  Captain  at  once 


284  MEN'S   WIVES 

demanded  permission  to  partake  of  the  joint  at  the 
family  table;  the  lady  could  not  with  any  great  reason 
deny  this  request;  the  Captain  was  inducted  into  the  bar; 
and  Miss  Crump,  who  always  came  down  late  for  din- 
ner, was  even  more  astonished  than  her  mamma  on  be- 
holding the  occupier  of  the  fourth  place  at  the  table. 
Had  she  expected  to  see  the  fascinating  stranger  so 
soon  again?  I  think  she  had.  Her  big  eye  said  as  much, 
as,  furtively  looking  up  at  Mr.  Walker's  face,  they 
caught  his  looks ;  and  then  bouncing  down  again  towards 
her  plate,  pretended  to  be  very  busy  in  looking  at  the 
boiled  beef  and  carrots  there  displayed.  She  blushed 
far  redder  than  those  carrots,  but  her  shining  ringlets 
hid  her  confusion  together  with  her  lovely  face. 

Sweet  Morgiana!  the  billiard-ball  eyes  had  a  tremen- 
dous effect  on  the  Captain.  They  fell  plump,  as  it  were, 
into  the  pocket  of  his  heart ;  and  he  gallantly  proposed 
to  treat  the  company  to  a  bottle  of  champagne,  which 
was  accepted  without  much  difficulty. 

Mr.  Crump,  under  pretence  of  going  to  the  cellar 
(where  he  said  he  had  some  cases  of  the  finest  champagne 
in  Europe) ,  called  Dick,  the  boy,  to  him,  and  despatched 
him  with  all  speed  to  a  wine-merchant's,  where  a  couple 
of  bottles  of  the  liquor  were  procured. 

"Bring  up  two  bottles,  Mr.  C,"  Captain  Walker 
gallantly  said  when  Crump  made  his  move,  as  it  were, 
to  the  cellar;  and  it  may  be  imagined  after  the  two 
bottles  were  drunk  (of  which  Mrs.  Crump  took  at 
least  nine  glasses  to  her  share),  how  happy,  merry 
and  confidential  the  whole  party  had  become.  Crump 
told  his  story  of  the  "  Bootjack,"  and  whose  boot  it  had 
drawn ;  the  former  Miss  Delancy  expatiated  on  her  past 
theatrical  life,  and  the  pictures  hanging  round  the  room. 


THE   RAVENSWING  285 

]Miss  was  equally  communicative ;  and,  in  short,  the  Cap- 
tain had  all  the  secrets  of  the  little  family  in  his  pos- 
session ere  sunset.  He  knew  that  Miss  cared  little  for 
either  of  her  suitors,  about  whom  mamma  and  papa  had 
a  little  quarrel.  He  heard  Mrs.  Crump  talk  of  ]\Ior- 
giana's  property,  and  fell  more  in  love  with  her  than 
ever.  Then  came  tea,  the  luscious  crumpet,  the  quiet 
game  at  cribbage,  and  the  song— the  song  which  poor 
Eglantine  heard,  and  which  caused  Woolsey's  rage  and 
his  despair. 

At  the  close  of  the  evening  the  tailor  was  in  a  greater 
rage,  and  the  perfumer  in  greater  despair  than  ever.  He 
had  made  his  little  present  of  eau-de-Cologne.  "  Oh 
fie!  "  says  the  Captain,  with  a  horse-laugh,  "  it  smells  of 
the  shop!"  He  taunted  the  tailor  about  his  wig,  and 
the  honest  fellow  had  only  an  oath  to  give  by  way  of 
repartee.  He  told  his  stories  about  his  club  and  his 
lordly  friends.  What  chance  had  either  against  the  all- 
accomplished  Howard  Walker? 

Old  Crump,  with  a  good  innate  sense  of  right  and 
wrong,  hated  the  man;  Mrs.  Crump  did  not  feel  quite 
at  her  ease  regarding  him;  but  Morgiana  thought  him 
the  most  delightful  person  the  world  ever  produced. 

Eglantine's  usual  morning  costume  was  a  blue  satin 
neckcloth  embroidered  with  butterflies  and  ornamented 
with  a  brandy-ball  brooch,  a  light  shawl  waistcoat,  and 
a  rhubarb-coloured  coat  of  the  sort  which,  I  believe,  are 
called  Taglionis,  and  which  have  no  waist-buttons,  and 
make  a  pretence,  as  it  were,  to  have  no  waists,  but  are 
in  reality  adopted  by  the  fat  in  order  to  give  them  a 
waist.  Nothing  easier  for  an  obese  man  than  to  have  a 
waist;  he  has  but  to  pinch  his  middle  part  a  little  and  the 
very  fat  on  either  side  pushed  violently  forward  makes 


286  MEN'S  WIVES 

a  waist,  as  it  were,  and  our  worthy  perfumer's  figure 
was  that  of  a  bolster  cut  almost  in  two  with  a  string. 

Walker  presently  saw  him  at  his  shop-door  grinning 
in  this  costume,  twiddling  his  ringlets  with  his  dumpy 
greasy  fingers,  glittering  with  oil  and  rings,  and  looking 
so  exceedingly  contented  and  happy  that  the  estate- 
agent  felt  assured  some  very  satisfactory  conspiracy 
had  been  planned  between  the  tailor  and  him.  How  was 
Mr.  Walker  to  learn  what  the  scheme  was?  Alas!  the 
poor  fellow's  vanity  and  delight  were  such,  that  he  could 
not  keep  silent  as  to  the  cause  of  his  satisfaction,  and 
rather  than  not  mention  it  at  all,  in  the  fulness  of  his 
heart  he  would  have  told  his  secret  to  IMr.  Mossrose 
himself. 

"  When  I  get  my  coat,"  thought  the  Bond  Street  Al- 
naschar,  "  I'll  hire  of  Snaffle  that  easy-going  cream-col- 
oured 'oss  that  he  bought  from  Astley's,  and  I'll  canter 
through  the  Park,  and  wont  I  pass  through  Little 
Bunker's  Buildings,  that's  all?  I'll  wear  my  grey  trou- 
sers with  the  velvet  stripe  down  the  side,  and  get  my 
spurs  lacquered  up,  and  a  French  polish  to  my  boot ;  and 
if  I  don't  do  for  the  Captain  and  the  tailor  too,  my 
name's  not  Archibald.  And  I  know  what  I'll  do:  I'll 
hire  the  small  Clarence,  and  invite  the  Crumps  to  dinner 
at  the  '  Gar  and  Starter'"  (this  was  his  facetious  way 
of  calling  the  "  Star  and  Garter"),  "  and  I'll  ride  by 
them  all  the  way  to  Richmond.  It's  rather  a  long  ride, 
but  with  Snaffle's  soft  saddle  I  can  do  it  pretty  easy,  I 
dare  say,"  And  so  the  honest  fellow  built  castles  upon 
castles  in  the  air;  and  the  last  most  beautiful  vision  of 
all  was  Miss  Crump  "  in  white  satting,  with  a  horange- 
flower  in  her  'air,"  putting  him  in  possession  of  "  her 
lovely  'and  before  the  haltar  of  St.  George's,  *Anover 


THE   RAVENSWING  287 

Square."  As  for  Woolsey,  Eglantine  determined  that 
he  should  have  the  best  wig  his  art  could  produce;  for 
he  had  not  the  least  fear  of  his  rival. 

These  points  then  being  arranged  to  the  poor  fellow's 
satisfaction,  what  does  he  do  but  send  out  for  half  a 
quire  of  pink  note-paper,  and  in  a  filigree  envelope  des- 
patch a  note  of  invitation  to  the  ladies  at  the  "  Boot- 
jack: "- 

"  Bower  of  Bloom,  Bond  Street, 
"  Thursday. 

"  Mr.  Archibald  Eglantine  presents  his  compliments  to  Mrs. 
and  Miss  Crump,  and  requests  the  honour  and  pleasure  of  their 
company  at  the  '  Star  and  Garter '  at  Richmond  to  an  early  din- 
ner on  Sunday  next. 

"  If  agreeable,  Mr.  Eglantine's  carriage  will  be  at  your  door 
at  three  o'clock,  and  I  propose  to  accompany  them  on  horseback 
if  agreeable  likewise." 

This  note  was  sealed  with  yellow  wax,  and  sent  to  its 
destination;  and  of  course  Mr.  Eglantine  went  himself 
for  the  answer  in  the  evening :  and  of  course  he  told  the 
ladies  to  look  out  for  a  certain  new  coat  he  was  going 
to  sport  on  Sunday ;  and  of  course  Mr.  Walker  happens 
to  call  the  next  day  with  spare  tickets  for  ]Mrs.  Crump 
and  her  daughter,  when  the  whole  secret  was  laid  bare  to 
him, — how  the  ladies  were  going  to  Richmond  on  Sun- 
day in  Mr.  Snaffle's  Clarence,  and  how  Mr.  Eglantine 
was  to  ride  by  their  side. 

Mr.  Walker  did  not  keep  horses  of  his  own ;  his  mag- 
nificent friends  at  the  "  Regent  "  had  plenty  in  their 
stables,  and  some  of  these  were  at  livery  at  the  establish- 
ment of  the  Captain's  old  "  college  "  companion,  Mr. 
Snaffle.  It  was  easy,  therefore,  for  the  Captain  to  re- 
new his  acquaintance  with  that  individual.    So,  hanging 


288  MEN'S   WIVES 

on  the  arm  of  my  Lord  Vauxhall,  Capt.  Walker  next 
day  made  his  appearance  at  Snaffle's  livery-stables,  and 
looked  at  the  various  horses  there  for  sale  or  at  bait,  and 
soon  managed,  by  putting  some  facetious  questions  to 
Mr.  Snaffle  regarding  the  "  Kidney  Club,"  &c.,  to  place 
himself  on  a  friendly  footing  with  that  gentleman,  and 
to  learn  from  him  what  horse  Mr.  Eglantine  was  to  ride 
on  Sunday. 

The  monster  Walker  had  fully  determined  in  his  mind 
that  Eglantine  should  fall  off  that  horse  in  the  course  of 
his  Sunday's  ride. 

"  That  sing'lar  hanimal,"  said  Mr.  Snaffle,  pointing 
to  the  old  horse,  "  is  the  celebrated  Hemperor  that  was 
the  wonder  of  Hastley's  some  years  back,  and  was 
parted  with  by  Mr.  Ducrow  honly  because  his  feelin's 
wouldn't  allow  him  to  keep  him  no  longer  after  the 
death  of  the  first  Mrs.  D.,  who  invariably  rode  him.  I 
bought  him,  thinking  that  p'raps  ladies  and  Cockney 
bucks  might  like  to  ride  him  (for  his  haction  is  wonder- 
ful, and  he  canters  like  a  harm-chair)  ;  but  he's  not  safe 
on  any  day  except  Sundays." 

"  And  why's  that?  "  asked  Captain  Walker.  "  Why 
is  he  safer  on  Sundays  than  other  days?  " 

"  Because  there's  no  music  in  the  streets  on  Sundays. 
The  first  gent  that  rode  him  found  himself  dancing  a 
quadrille  in  Hupper  Brook  Street  to  an  'urdy-gurdy 
that  was  playing  '  Cherry  Ripe,'  such  is  the  natur  of  the 
hanimal.  And  if  you  reklect  the  jDlay  of  the  '  Battle  of 
Hoysterlitz,'  in  which  Mrs.  D.  hacted  '  the  female 
hussar,'  you  may  remember  how  she  and  the  horse  died 
in  the  third  act  to  the  toon  of  '  God  preserve  the  Em- 
peror,' from  which  this  horse  took  his  name.  Only  play 
that  toon  to  him,  and  he  rears  hisself  up,  beats  the  hair 


THE  RAVENSWING  289 

in  time  with  his  forelegs,  and  then  sinks  gently  to  the 
ground  as  though  he  were  carried  off  by  a  cannon-ball. 
He  served  a  lady  hopposite  Hapsley  Ouse  so  one  day, 
and  since  then  I've  never  let  him  out  to  a  friend  except 
on  Sunday,  when,  in  course,  there's  no  danger.  Heg- 
lantine  is  a  friend  of  mine,  and  of  course  I  wouldn't  put 
the  poor  fellow  on  a  hanimal  I  couldn't  trust." 

After  a  little  more  conversation,  my  lord  and  his 
friend  quitted  IMr.  Snaffle's,  and  as  they  walked  away 
towards  the  "  Regent,"  his  lordship  might  be  heard 
shrieking  with  laughter,  crying,  "Capital,  by  jingo! 
exthlent!  Dwive  down  in  the  dwag!  Take  Lungly. 
Worth  a  thousand  pound,  by  Jove!  "  and  similar  ejacu- 
lations, indicative  of  exceeding  delight. 

On  Saturday  morning,  at  ten  o'clock  to  a  moment, 
Mr.  Woolsey  called  at  INIr.  Eglantine's  with  a  yellow 
handkerchief  under  his  arm.  It  contained  the  best  and 
handsomest  body-coat  that  ever  gentleman  put  on.  It 
fitted  Eglantine  to  a  nicety— it  did  not  pinch  him  in 
the  least,  and  yet  it  was  of  so  exquisite  a  cut  that  the 
perfumer  found,  as  he  gazed  delighted  in  the  glass,  that 
he  looked  like  a  manly,  portly,  high-bred  gentleman— 
a  lieutenant-colonel  in  the  army,  at  the  very  least. 

"  You're  a  full  man.  Eglantine,"  said  the  tailor,  de- 
lighted, too,  with  his  own  work;  "but  that  can't  be 
helped.  You  look  more  like  Hercules  than  Falstaff 
now,  sir;  and  if  a  coat  can  make  a  gentleman,  a  gentle- 
man you  are.  Let  me  recommend  you  to  sink  the  blue 
cravat,  and  take  the  stripes  off  your  trousers.  Dress 
quiet,  sir;  draw  it  mild.  Plain  waistcoat,  dark  trousers, 
black  neckcloth,  black  hat,  and  if  there's  a  better-dressed 
man  in  Europe  to-morrow  I'm  a  Dutchman." 

"  Thank  you,  Woolsey — thank  you,  my  dear  sir,"  said 


290  MEN'S  WIVES 

the  charmed  perfumer.    "  And  now  I'll  just  trouble  you 
to  try  on  this  here." 

The  wig  had  been  made  with  equal  skill;  it  was  not  in 
the  florid  style  which  JNIr.  Eglantine  loved  in  his  own 
person,  but,  as  the  perfumer  said,  a  simple,  straightfor- 
ward head  of  hair.  "  It  seems  as  if  it  had  grown  there 
all  your  life,  JNIr.  Woolsey;  nobody  would  tell  that  it 
was  not  your  nat'ral  colour  "  (Mr.  Woolsey  blushed)  — 
"  it  makes  you  look  ten  year  younger;  and  as  for  that 
scarecrow  yonder,  you'll  never,  I  think,  want  to  wear 
that  again." 

Woolsey  looked  in  the  glass,  and  was  delighted  too. 
The  two  rivals  shook  hands  and  straightway  became 
friends,  and  in  the  overflowing  of  his  heart  the  perfumer 
mentioned  to  the  tailor  the  party  which  he  had  arranged 
for  the  next  day,  and  ofl'ered  him  a  seat  in  the  carriage 
and  at  the  dinner  at  the  "  Star  and  Garter."  "  Would 
you  like  to  ride?  "  said  Eglantine,  Math  rather  a  conse- 
quential air.  "  Snaffle  will  mount  you,  and  we  can  go 
one  on  each  side  of  the  ladies,  if  you  like." 

But  Woolsey  humbly  said  he  was  not  a  riding  man, 
and  gladly  consented  to  take  a  place  in  the  Clarence  car- 
riage, provided  he  was  allowed  to  bear  half  the  expenses 
of  the  entertainment.  This  proposal  was  agreed  to 
by  Mr.  Eglantine,  and  the  two  gentlemen  parted  to 
meet  once  more  at  the  "  Kidneys  "  that  night,  when 
everybody  was  edified  by  the  friendly  tone  adopted  be- 
tween them. 

]Mr.  Snaffle,  at  the  club  meeting,  made  the  very  same 
proposal  to  Mr.  Woolsey  that  the  perfumer  had  made; 
and  stated  that  as  Eglantine  was  going  to  ride  Hem- 
peror,  Woolsey,  at  least,  ought  to  mount  too.  But  he 
was  met  by  the  same  modest  refusal  on  the  tailor's  part, 


THE  RAVENSWING  291 

who  stated  that  he  had  never  mounted  a  horse  yet,  and 
preferred  greatly  the  use  of  a  coach. 

Eglantine's  character  as  a  "  swell "  rose  greatly  with 
the  club  that  evening. 

Two  o'clock  on  Sunday  came:  the  two  beaux  arrived 
punctually  at  the  door  to  receive  the  two  smiling  ladies. 

"  Bless  us,  Ur.  Eglantine!  "  said  Miss  Crump,  quite 
struck  by  him,  "  I  never  saw  you  look  so  handsome  in 
your  life."  He  could  have  flung  his  arms  around  her 
neck  at  the  compliment.  "  And  law,  Ma !  what  has  hap- 
pened to  Ur.  Woolsey?  doesn't  he  look  ten  years 
younger  than  yesterday?  "  Mamma  assented,  and  Wool- 
sey bowed  gallantly,  and  the  two  gentlemen  exchanged 
a  nod  of  hearty  friendshi]3. 

The  day  was  delightful.  Eglantine  pranced  along 
magnificently  on  his  cantering  arm-chair,  with  his  hat 
on  one  ear,  his  left  hand  on  his  side,  and  his  head  flung 
over  his  shoulder,  and  throwing  under-glances  at  ]Mor- 
giana  whenever  the  "  Emperor  "  was  in  advance  of  the 
Clarence.  The  "  Emperor  "  pricked  up  his  ears  a  little 
uneasily  passing  the  Ebenezer  chapel  in  Richmond, 
where  the  congregation  were  singing  a  hymn,  but  be- 
yond this  no  accident  occurred;  nor  was  Mr.  Eglantine 
in  the  least  stiff  or  fatigued  by  the  time  the  party  reached 
Richmond,  where  he  arrived  time  enough  to  give  his 
steed  into  the  charge  of  an  ostler,  and  to  present  his 
elbow  to  the  ladies  as  tliey  alighted  from  the  Clarence 

carriage. 

What  this  jovial  party  ate  for  dinner  at  the  "  Star  and 
Garter  "  need  not  here  be  set  down.  If  they  did  not 
drink  champagne  I  am  very  much  mistaken.  They  were 
as  merry  as  any  four  people  in  Christendom ;  and  be- 
tween the  bewildering  attentions  of  the  perfumer,  and 


292  MEN'S  WIVES 

the  manly  courtesy  of  the  tailor,  Morgiana  very  likely 
forgot  the  gallant  captain,  or,  at  least,  was  very  happy 
in  his  absence. 

At  eight  o'clock  they  began  to  drive  homewards. 
"  Wont  you  come  into  the  carriage?  "  said  Morgiana  to 
Eglantine,  with  one  of  her  tenderest  looks;  "  Dick  can 
ride  the  horse."  But  Archibald  was  too  great  a  lover  of 
equestrian  exercise.  "  I'm  afraid  to  trust  anybody  on 
this  horse,"  said  he  with  a  knowing  look;  and  so  he 
pranced  away  by  the  side  of  the  little  carriage.  The 
moon  was  brilliant,  and,  with  the  aid  of  the  gas-lamps, 
illuminated  the  whole  face  of  the  country  in  a  way  in- 
expressibly lively. 

Presentlj^,  in  the  distance,  the  sweet  and  plaintive 
notes  of  a  bugle  were  heard,  and  the  performer,  with 
great  delicacy,  executed  a  religious  air.  "  Music,  too ! 
heavenly!  "  said  Morgiana,  throwing  up  her  eyes  to  the 
stars.  The  music  came  nearer  and  nearer,  and  the  de- 
light of  the  company  was  only  more  intense.  The  fly 
was  going  at  about  four  miles  an  hour,  and  the  "  Em- 
peror "  began  cantering  to  time  at  the  same  rapid  pace. 

"  This  must  be  some  gallantry  of  yours,  ]Mr.  Wool- 
sey,"  said  the  romantic  Morgiana,  turning  upon  that 
gentleman.  "  Mr.  Eglantine  treated  us  to  the  dinner, 
and  you  have  provided  us  with  the  music." 

Now  Woolsey  had  been  a  little,  a  very  little,  dissatis- 
fied during  the  course  of  the  evening's  entertainment,  by 
fancying  that  Eglantine,  a  much  more  voluble  person 
than  himself,  had  obtained  rather  an  undue  share  of  the 
ladies'  favour;  and  as  he  himself  paid  half  of  the  ex- 
penses, he  felt  very  much  vexed  to  think  that  the  per- 
fumer should  take  all  the  credit  of  the  business  to  him- 
self.   So  when  Miss  Crump  asked  if  he  had  provided  the 


THE  RAVENSWING  293 

music,  he  foolishly  made  an  evasive  reply  to  her  query, 
and  rather  wished  her  to  imagine  that  he  had  performed 
that  piece  of  gallantry.  "  If  it  pleases  you.  Miss  Mor- 
giana,"  said  this  artful  Schneider,  "  what  more  need  any 
man  ask?  wouldn't  I  have  all  Drury  Lane  orchestra  to 
please  you? " 

The  bugle  had  by  this  time  arrived  quite  close  to  the 
Clarence  carriage,  and  if  ^lorgiana  had  looked  round 
she  might  have  seen  whence  the  music  came.  Behind 
her  came  slowly  a  drag,  or  private  stage-coach,  with  four 
horses.  Two  grooms  with  cockades  and  folded  arms 
w^ere  behind ;  and  driving  on  the  box,  a  little  gentleman, 
with  a  blue  bird's-eye  neckcloth,  and  a  white  coat.  A 
bugleman  was  by  his  side,  who  performed  the  melodies 
which  so  delighted  Miss  Crump.  He  played  very  gently 
and  sweetly,  and  "  God  save  the  King  "  trembled  so 
softly  out  of  the  brazen  orifice  of  his  bugle,  that  the 
Crumps,  the  tailor,  and  Eglantine  himself,  who  was 
riding  close  by  the  carriage,  were  quite  charmed  and  sub- 
dued. 

"Thank  you,  dear  Mr.  Woolsey,"  said  the  grateful 
Morgiana;  which  made  Eglantine  stare,  and  Woolsey 
was  just  saying,  "  Really,  upon  my  word,  I've  nothing 
to  do  with  it,"  when  the  man  on  the  drag-box  said  to  the 
bugleman,  "  Now!  " 

The  bugleman  began  the  tune  of — 

"  Heaven  preserve  our  Emperor  Fra-an-cis, 
Rum  tum-tl-tum-ti-titty-ti." 

At  the  sound,  the  Emperor  reared  himself  (with  a  roar 
from  Mr.  Eglantine)  —reared  and  beat  the  air  with  liis 
fore-paws.  Eglantine  flung  his  arms  round  the  beast's 
neck,  still  he  kept  beating  time  with  his  fore-paws.    Mrs. 


294  MEN'S  WIVES 

Crump  screamed;  JMr.  Woolsey,  Dick,  the  Clarence 
coachman,  Lord  Vauxhall  (for  it  was  he),  and  his  lord- 
ship's two  grooms,  burst  into  a  shout  of  laughter ;  Mor- 
giana  cries  "  Mercy !  mercy !  "  Eglantine  yells  "  Stop !  " 
—  "Wo!"— "O!"  and  a  thousand  ejaculations  of 
hideous  terror;  until,  at  last,  down  drops  the  "Em- 
peror "  stone  dead  in  the  middle  of  the  road,  as  if  carried 
off  by  a  cannon-ball. 

Fancy  the  situation,  ye  callous  souls  who  laugh  at 
the  misery  of  humanity,  fancy  the  situation  of  poor  Eg- 
lantine under  the  "Emperor!"  He  had  fallen  very 
easy,  the  animal  lay  perfectly  quiet,  and  the  perfumer 
was  to  all  intents  and  purposes  as  dead  as  the  animal. 
He  had  not  fainted,  but  he  was  immovable  with  terror; 
he  lay  in  a  puddle,  and  thought  it  was  his  own  blood 
gushing  from  him;  and  he  would  have  lain  there  until 
Monday  morning,  if  my  lord's  grooms,  descending,  had 
not  dragged  him  by  the  coat-collars  from  under  the 
beast,  who  still  lay  quiet. 

"Play  'Charming  Judy  Callaghan,'  will  ye?"  says 
Mr.  Snaffle's  man,  the  fl3^-driver;  on  which  the  bugler 
performed  that  lively  air,  and  up  started  the  horse,  and 
the  grooms,  v»^ho  were  rubbing  Mr.  Eglantine  down 
against  a  lamp-post,  invited  him  to  remount. 

But  his  heart  was  too  broken  for  that.  The  ladies 
gladly  made  room  for  him  in  the  Clarence.  Dick 
mounted  "  Emperor  "  and  rode  homewards.  The  drag, 
too,  drove  away,  playing,  "  O  dear,  what  can  the  matter 
be?"  and  with  a  scowl  of  furious  hate,  Mr.  Eglantine 
sat  and  regarded  his  rival.  His  pantaloons  were  split, 
and  his  coat  torn  up  the  back. 

"Are  you  hurt  much,  dear  Mr.  Archibald?"  said 
Morgiana,  with  unaffected  compassion. 


THE  RAVEN  SWING  295 

"  N-not  much,"  said  the  poor  fellow,  ready  to  burst 
into  tears. 

"  Oh,  JNIr.  Woolsey,"  added  the  good-natured  girl, 
"  how  could  you  play  such  a  trick? " 

"Upon  my  word,"  Woolsey  began,  intending  to 
plead  innocence;  but  the  ludicrousness  of  the  situation 
was  once  more  too  much  for  him,  and  he  burst  out  into 
a  roar  of  laughter. 

"  You!  you  cowardly  beast!  "  howled  out  Eglantine, 
now  driven  to  fury,—''  you  laugh  at  me,  you  miserable 
cretur!  Take  that,  sir!  "  and  he  fell  upon  him  with  all 
his  might,  and  well-nigh  throttled  the  tailor,  and  pum- 
melling his  eyes,  his  nose,  his  ears,  with  inconceivable 
rapidity,  wrenched,  finally,  his  wig  off  his  head,  and 
flung  it  into  the  road. 

Morgiana  saw  that  Woolsey  had  red  hair.* 
****** 


CHAPTER   IV 


IN    WHICH    THE    HEROINE    HAS    A    NUMBER    MORI     I.OVERS,    AND 
CUTS    A    VERY    DASHING    FIGURE    IN    THE    WORLD 

TWO  years  have  elapsed  since  the  festival  at  Rich- 
mond, which,  begun  so  peaceably,  ended  in  such 
general  uproar.  JNIorgiana  never  could  be  brought  to 
pardon  Woolsey's  red  hair,  nor  to  help  laughing  at  Eg- 
lantine's disasters,  nor  could  the  two  gentlemen  be  rec- 
onciled to  one  another.  Woolsey,  indeed,  sent  a  chal- 
lenge to  the  perfumer  to  meet  him  witli  pistols,  which 
the  latter  declined,  saying,  justly,  that  tradesmen  had 
no  business  with  such  weapons;  on  this  the  tailor  pro- 

1  A  French  proverhe  furnished  the  author  with  the  notion  of  the  rivalry 
between  the  Barber  and  the  Tailor. 


296  MEN'S  WIVES 

posed  to  meet  him  with  coats  off,  and  have  it  out  Hke 
men,  in  the  presence  of  their  friends  of  the  "  Kidney 
Club."  The  perfumer  said  he  would  be  party  to  no  such 
vulgar  transaction;  on  which  Woolsey,  exasperated, 
made  an  oath  that  he  would  tweak  the  perfumer's  nose 
so  surely  as  he  ever  entered  the  club-room ;  and  thus  one 
member  of  the  "  Kidnej^s  "  was  compelled  to  vacate  his 
arm-chair. 

Woolsey  himself  attended  every  meeting  regularly, 
but  he  did  not  evince  that  gaiety  and  good  humour  which 
render  men's  company  agreeable  in  clubs.  On  arriving, 
he  would  order  the  boy  to  "  tell  him  when  that  scoundrel 
Eglantine  came;  "  and,  hanging  up  his  hat  on  a  peg, 
would  scowl  round  the  room,  and  tuck  up  his  sleeves  very 
high,  and  stretch  and  shake  his  fingers  and  wrists,  as  if 
getting  them  ready  for  that  pull  of  the  nose  which  he 
intended  to  bestow  upon  his  rival.  So  prepared,  he 
M^ould  sit  down  and  smoke  his  pipe  quite  silently,  glaring 
at  all,  and  jumping  up,  and  hitching  up  his  coat-sleeves, 
when  any  one  entered  the  room. 

The  "  Kidneys  "  did  not  like  this  behaviour.  Clinker 
ceased  to  come.  Bustard,  the  poulterer,  ceased  to  come. 
As  for  Snaffle,  he  also  disappeared,  for  Woolsey  wished 
to  make  him  answerable  for  the  misbehaviour  of  Eglan- 
tine, and  proposed  to  him  the  duel  which  the  latter  had 
declined.  So  Snaffle  went.  Presently  they  all  went, 
except  the  tailor  and  Tressle,  who  lived  down  the  street, 
and  these  two  would  sit  and  puff  their  tobacco,  one  on 
each  side  of  Crump,  the  landlord,  as  silent  as  Indian 
chiefs  in  a  wigwam.  There  grew  to  be  more  and  more 
room  for  poor  old  Crump  in  his  chair  and  in  his  clothes ; 
the  "  Kidneys  "  were  gone,  and  why  should  he  remain? 
One  Saturday  he  did  not  come  down  to  preside  at  the 


THE  RAVENSWING  297 

club  (as  he  still  fondly  called  it) ,  and  the  Saturday  fol- 
lowing Tressle  had  made  a  coffin  for  him;  and  Woolsey, 
with  the  undertaker  by  his  side,  followed  to  the  grave 
the  father  of  the  "  Kidneys." 

Mrs.  Crump  was  now  alone  in  the  world.  "  How 
alone? "  says  some  innocent  and  respected  reader.  Ah! 
my  dear  sir,  do  you  know  so  little  of  human  nature  as 
not  to  be  aware  that,  one  week  after  the  Richmond 
affair,  Morgiana  married  Captain  Walker?  That  did 
she  privately,  of  course;  and,  after  the  ceremony,  came 
tripping  back  to  her  parents,  as  young  people  do  in 
plays,  and  said,  "  Forgive  me,  dear  Pa  and  Ma,  I'm 
married,  and  here  is  my  husband,  the  Captain!  "  Papa 
and  mamma  did  forgive  her,  as  why  shouldn't  they?  and 
papa  paid  over  her  fortune  to  her,  which  she  carried 
home  dehghted  to  the  Captain.  This  happened  several 
months  before  the  demise  of  old  Crump ;  and  Mrs.  Cap- 
tain Walker  was  on  the  Continent  with  her  Howard 
when  that  melancholy  event  took  place;  hence  Mrs. 
Crump's  loneliness  and  unprotected  condition.  Mor- 
giana had  not  latterly  seen  much  of  the  old  people ;  how 
could  she,  moving  in  her  exalted  sphere,  receive  at  her 
genteel  new  residence  in  the  Edgeware  Road,  the  old 
publican  and  his  wife? 

Being,  then,  alone  in  the  world,  Mrs.  Crump  could 
not  abear,  she  said,  to  live  in  the  house  where  she  had 
been  so  respected  and  happy:  so  she  sold  the  good-will 
of  the  "  Bootjack,"  and,  with  the  money  arising  from 
this  sale  and  her  own  private  fortune,  being  able  to 
muster  some  sixty  pounds  per  annum,  retired  to  the 
neighbourhood  of  her  dear  old  "  Sadler's  Wells,"  where 
she  boarded  with  one  of  Mrs.  Serle's  forty  pupils.  Her 
heart  was  broken,  she  said;  but  nevertheless,  about  nine 


298  MEN'S  WIVES 

months  after  IMr.  Crump's  death,  the  wallflowers,  nas- 
turtiums, polyanthuses  and  convolvuluses  began  to  blos- 
som under  her  bonnet  as  usual;  in  a  year  she  was  dressed 
quite  as  fine  as  ever,  and  now  never  missed  the  "  Wells," 
or  some  other  place  of  entertainment,  one  single  night, 
but  was  as  regular  as  the  box-keeper.  Nay,  she  was  a 
buxom  widow  still,  and  an  old  flame  of  hers,  Fisk,  so 
celebrated  as  pantaloon  in  Grimaldi's  time,  but  now  doing 
the  "  heavy  fathers  "  at  the  "  Wells,"  proposed  to  her 
to  exchange  her  name  for  his. 

But  this  proposal  the  worthy  widow  declined  alto- 
gether. To  say  truth,  she  was  exceedingly  proud  of  her 
daughter,  JNIrs.  Captain  Walker.  They  did  not  see  each 
other  much  at  first ;  but  every  now  and  then  ]\Irs.  Crump 
would  pay  a  visit  to  the  folks  in  Connaught  Square; 
and  on  the  days  when  "  the  Captain's  "  lady  called  in 
the  City  Road,  there  was  not  a  single  official  at  "  The 
Wells,"  from  the  first  tragedian  down  to  the  call-boy, 
who  was  not  made  aware  of  the  fact. 

It  has  been  said  that  IMorgiana  carried  home  her  for- 
tune in  her  own  reticule,  and  smiling  placed  the  money 
in  her  husband's  lap ;  and  hence  the  reader  may  imagine, 
who  knows  Mr.  Walker  to  be  an  extremely  selfish  fel- 
low, that  a  great  scene  of  anger  must  have  taken  place, 
and  many  coarse  oaths  and  epithets  of  abuse  must  have 
come  from  him,  when  he  found  that  five  hundred  pounds 
was  all  that  his  wife  had,  although  he  had  expected  five 
thousand  with  her.  But,  to  say  the  truth.  Walker  was 
at  this  time  almost  in  love  with  his  handsome,  ros5%  good- 
humoured,  simple  wife.  They  had  made  a  fortnight's 
tour,  during  which  they  had  been  exceedingly  happy; 
and  there  was  something  so  frank  and  touching  in  the 
way  in  which  the  kind  creature  flung  her  all  into  his  lap, 


THE   RAVENSWING  299 

saluting  him  with  a  hearty  embrace  at  the  same  time,  and 
wishing  that  it  were  a  thousand  billion  billion  times  more, 
so  that  her  darling  Howard  might  enjoy  it,  that  the 
man  would  have  been  a  ruffian  indeed  could  he  have  found 
it  in  his  heart  to  be  angry  with  her ;  and  so  he  kissed  her 
in  return,  and  patted  her  on  the  shining  ringlets,  and 
then  counted  over  the  notes  with  rather  a  disconsolate 
air,  and  ended  by  locking  them  up  in  his  portfolio.  In 
fact,  she  had  never  deceived  him;  Eglantine  had,  and  he 
in  return  had  out- tricked  Eglantine ;  and  so  warm  were 
his  affections  for  JNIorgiana  at  this  time,  that,  upon  my 
word  and  honour,  I  don't  think  he  repented  of  his  bar- 
gain. Besides,  five  hundred  pounds  in  crisp  bank-notes 
was  a  sum  of  money  such  as  the  Captain  was  not  in  the 
habit  of  handling  every  day ;  a  dashing,  sanguine  fellow, 
he  fancied  there  w^as  no  end  to  it,  and  alreadj^  thought 
of  a  dozen  ways  by  which  it  should  increase  and  multiply 
into  a  plum.  Woe  is  me!  Has  not  many  a  simple  soul 
examined  five  new  hundred-pound  notes  in  this  way,  and 
calculated  their  powers  of  duration  and  multiplication! 
This  subject,  however,  is  too  painful  to  be  dwelt  on. 
Let  us  hear  what  Walker  did  with  his  money.  Why,  he 
furnished  the  house  in  the  Edgeware  Road  before  men- 
tioned, he  ordered  a  handsome  service  of  plate,  he 
sported  a  phaeton  and  two  ponies,  he  kept  a  couple  of 
smart  maids  and  a  groom  foot-boy,— in  fact,  he  mounted 
just  such  a  neat,  unpretending,  gentlemanlike  establish- 
ment as  becomes  a  respectable  young  couj^le  on  their  out- 
set in  life.  "  I've  sown  my  wild  oats,"  he  would  say  to 
his  acquaintances;  "  a  few  years  since,  perhaps,  I  would 
have  longed  to  cut  a  dash,  but  now  prudence  is  the  word ; 
and  I've  settled  every  farthing  of  ]Mrs.  Walker's  fifteen 
thousand  on  herself."     And  the  best  proof  that  the 


300  MEN'S  WIVES 

world  had  confidence  in  him  is  the  fact,  that  for  the 
articles  of  plate,  equipage,  and  furniture,  which  have 
been  mentioned  as  being  in  his  possession,  he  did  not 
pay  one  single  shilling ;  and  so  prudent  was  he,  that  but 
for  turnpikes,  postage-stamps,  and  king's  taxes,  he 
hardly  had  occasion  to  change  a  five-pound  note  of  his 
wife's  fortune. 

To  tell  the  truth,  Mr.  Walker  had  determined  to  make 
his  fortune.  And  what  is  easier  in  London?  Is  not  the 
share-market  open  to  all?  Do  not  Spanish  and  Colum- 
bian bonds  rise  and  fall?  For  what  are  companies  in- 
vented but  to  place  thousands  in  the  pockets  of  share- 
holders and  directors?  Into  these  commercial  pursuits 
the  gallant  Captain  now  plunged  with  great  energy,  and 
made  some  brilliant  hits  at  first  starting,  and  bought  and 
sold  so  opportunely,  that  his  name  began  to  rise  in  the 
City  as  a  capitalist,  and  might  be  seen  in  the  printed  list 
of  directors  of  many  excellent  and  philanthropic  schemes, 
of  which  there  is  never  any  lack  in  London.  Business 
to  the  amount  of  thousands  was  done  at  his  agency; 
shares  of  vast  value  were  bought  and  sold  under  his 
management.  How  poor  Mr.  Eglantine  used  to  hate 
him  and  envy  him,  as  from  the  door  of  his  emporium 
(the  firm  was  Eglantine  and  Mossrose  now)  he  saw  the 
Captain  daily  arrive  in  his  pony-phaeton,  and  heard  of 
the  start  he  had  taken  in  life. 

The  only  regret  Mrs.  Walker  had  was  that  she  did  not 
enjoy  enough  of  her  husband's  society.  His  business 
called  him  away  all  day ;  his  business,  too,  obhged  him  to 
leave  her  of  evenings  very  frequently  alone;  whilst  he 
(always  in  pursuit  of  business)  was  dining  with  his  great 
friends  at  the  club,  and  drinking  claret  and  champagne 
to  the  same  end. 


THE  RAVENSWING  301 

She  was  a  perfectly  good-natured  and  simple  soul, 
and  never  made  him  a  single  reproach;  but  when  he  could 
pass  an  evening  at  home  with  her  she  was  delighted,  and 
when  he  could  drive  with  her  in  the  Park  she  was  happy 
for  a  week  after.    On  these  occasions,  and  in  the  fulness 
of  her  heart,  she  would  drive  to  her  mother  and  tell  her 
story.    "  Howard  drove  with  me  in  the  Park  yesterday, 
mamma;"  "Howard  has  promised  to  take  me  to  the 
Opera,"  and  so  forth.    And  that  evening  the  manager, 
Mr.  Gawler,  the  first  tragedian,  Mrs.  Serle  and  her  forty 
pupils,   all  the   box-keepers,   bonnet-women— nay,   the 
ginger-beer  girls  themselves  at  "  The  Wells,"  knew  that 
Captain  and  Mrs.  Walker  were  at  Kensington  Gardens, 
or  were  to  have  the  Marchioness  of  Billingsgate's  box  at 
the  Opera.    One  night— O  joy  of  joys!— Mrs.  Captain 
Walker  appeared  in  a  private  box  at  "  The  Wells." 
That's  she  with  the  black  ringlets  and  Cashmere  shawl, 
smelling-bottle,   and   black-velvet   gown,   and   bird   of 
paradise  in  her  hat.     Goodness  gracious!  how  they  all 
acted  at  her,  Gawler  and  all,  and  how  happy  Mrs.  Crump 
was!    She  kissed  her  daughter  between  all  the  acts,  she 
nodded  to  all  her  friends  on  the  stage,  in  the  slips,  or  in 
the  real  water;  she  introduced  her  daughter,  Mrs.  Cap- 
tain Walker,  to  the  box-opener;  and  Melvil  Delamere 
(the  first  comic) ,  Canterfield  (the  tyrant) ,  and  Jonesini 
(the  celebrated  Fontarabian  Statuesque),  were  all  on 
the  steps,  and  shouted  for  Mrs.  Captain  Walker's  car- 
riage, and  waved  their  hats,  and  bowed  as  the  little  i)ony- 
phaeton  drove  away.     Walker,  in  his  moustaches,  had 
come  in  at  the  end  of  the  play,  and  was  not  a  little  grati- 
fied by  the  compliments  paid  to  liimself  and  lady. 

Among  tlic  other  articles  of  luxury  with  which  the 
Captain  furnished  his  house  we  must  not  omit  to  mention 


302  MEN'S  WIVES 

an  extremely  grand  piano,  which  occupied  four-fifths  of 
Mrs.  Walker's  little  back  drawing-room,  and  at  which 
she  was  in  the  habit  of  practising  continually.  All  day 
and  all  night  during  Walker's  absences  (and  these  oc- 
curred all  night  and  all  day)  you  might  hear — the  whole 
street  might  hear — the  voice  of  the  lady  at  No.  23  gurg- 
ling, and  shaking,  and  quavering,  as  ladies  do  when  they 
practise.  The  street  did  not  approve  of  the  continuance 
of  the  noise;  but  neighbours  are  difficult  to  please,  and 
what  would  Morgiana  have  had  to  do  if  she  had  ceased 
to  sing?  It  would  be  hard  to  lock  a  blackbird  in  a  cage 
and  prevent  him  from  singing  too.  And  so  Walker's 
blackbird,  in  the  snug  little  cage  in  the  Edgeware  Road, 
sang  and  was  not  unhappy. 

After  the  pair  had  been  married  for  about  a  year,  the 
omnibus  that  passes  both  by  Mrs.  Crump's  house  near 
"The  Wells,"  and  by  Mrs.  Walker's  street  off  the 
Edgeware  Road,  brought  up  the  former-named  lady 
almost  every  day  to  her  daughter.  She  came  when  the 
Captain  had  gone  to  his  business;  she  stayed  to  a  two- 
o'clock  dinner  with  JNIorgiana,  she  drove  with  her  in  the 
pony-carriage  round  the  Park,  but  she  never  stopped 
later  than  six.  Had  she  not  to  go  to  the  play  at  seven? 
And,  besides,  the  Captain  might  come  home  with  some 
of  his  great  friends,  and  he  always  swore  and  grumbled 
much  if  he  found  his  mother-in-law  on  the  premises.  As 
for  Morgiana,  she  was  one  of  those  women  who  en- 
courage despotism  in  husbands.  What  the  husband 
says  must  be  right,  because  he  says  it;  what  he  orders 
must  be  obeyed  tremblingly.  Mrs.  Walker  gave  up  her 
entire  reason  to  her  lord.  Why  was  it  ?  Before  marriage 
she  had  been  an  independent  little  person;  she  had  far 
more  brains  than  her  Howard.    I  think  it  must  have  been 


THE  RAVENSWING  303 

his  moustaches  that  frightened  her,  and  caused  in  her 
this  humihty. 

Selfish  husbands  have  this  advantage  in  maintaining 
with  easy-minded  wives  a  rigid  and  inflexible  behaviour, 
viz.,  that  if  they  do  by  any  chance  grant  a  little  favour, 
the  ladies  receive  it  with  such  transports  of  gratitude  as 
they  would  never  think  of  showing  to  a  lord  and  master 
who  was  accustomed  to  give  them  everything  they  asked 
for;  and  hence,  when  Captain  Walker  signified  his  assent 
to  his  wife's  prayer  that  she  should  take  a  singing-master, 
she  thought  his  generosity  almost  divine,  and  fell  upon 
her  mamma's  neck,  when  that  lady  came  the  next  day, 
and  said  what  a  dear  adorable  angel  her  Howard  was, 
and  what  ought  she  not  to  do  for  a  man  who  had  taken 
her  from  her  humble  situation,  and  raised  her  to  be  what 
she  was!    What  she  was,  poor  soul!     She  was  the  wife 
of  a  swindling  parvenu  gentleman.     She  received  visits 
from  six  ladies  of  her  husband's  acquaintances,— two 
attorneys'  ladies,  his  bill-broker's  lady,  and  one  or  two 
more,  of  whose  characters  we  had  best,  if  you  please,  say 
nothing;  and  she  thought  it  an  honour  to  be  so  distin- 
guished: as  if  Walker  had  been  a  Eord  Exeter  to  marry 
a  humble  maiden,  or  a  noble  prince  to  fall  in  love  with 
a  humble  Cinderella,  or  a  majestic  Jove  to  come  down 
from  heaven  and  woo  a   Semele.     Look  through  the 
world,  respectable  reader,  and  among  your  honourable 
acquaintances,  and  say  if  this  sort  of  faith  in  women  is 
not  very  frequent?    They  will  believe  in  their  husbands, 
whatever  the  latter  do.    Let  John  be  dull,  ugly,  vulgar, 
and  a  humbug,  his  Mary  Ann  never  finds  it  out;  let  him 
tell  his  stories  ever  so  many  times,  there  is  she  always 
ready  with  her  kind  smile;  let  liim  be  stingy,  she  says  he 
is  prudent;  let  him  quarrel  with  his  best  friend,  she  says 


304  MEN'S  WIVES 

he  is  always  in  the  right ;  let  him  be  prodigal,  she  says  he 
is  generous,  and  that  his  health  requires  enjoyment;  let 
him  be  idle,  he  must  have  relaxation ;  and  she  will  pinch 
herself  and  her  household  that  he  may  have  a  guinea  for 
his  club.  Yes;  and  every  morning,  as  she  Avakes  and 
looks  at  the  face,  snoring  on  the  pillow  by  her  side — 
every  morning,  I  say,  she  blesses  that  dull,  ugly  counte- 
nance, and  the  dull  ugly  soul  reposing  there,  and  thinks 
both  are  something  divine.  I  want  to  know  how  it  is 
that  women  do  not  find  out  their  husbands  to  be  hum- 
bugs? Nature  has  so  provided  it,  and  thanks  to  her. 
When  last  j^ear  they  were  acting  the  "  Midsummer 
Night's  Dream,"  and  all  the  boxes  began  to  roar  with 
great  coarse  heehaws  at  Titania  hugging  Bottom's  long 
long  ears— to  me,  considering  these  things,  it  seemed  that 
there  were  a  hundred  other  male  brutes  squatted  round 
about,  and  treated  just  as  reasonably  as  Bottom  was. 
Their  Titanias  lulled  them  to  sleep  in  their  laps,  sum- 
moned a  hundred  smiling,  delicate,  household  fairies  to 
tickle  their  gross  intellects  and  minister  to  their  vulgar 
pleasures ;  and  ( as  the  above  remarks  are  only  supposed 
to  apply  to  honest  women  loving  their  own  lawful 
spouses)  a  mercy  it  is  that  no  wicked  Puck  is  in  the  way 
to  open  their  eyes,  and  point  out  their  folly.  Cui  bono? 
let  them  live  on  in  their  deceit :  I  know  two  lovely  ladies 
who  will  read  this,  and  will  say  it  is  just  very  likely,  and 
not  see  in  the  least  that  it  has  been  written  regarding 
them. 

Another  point  of  sentiment,  and  one  curious  to  specu- 
late on.  Have  you  not  remarked  the  immense  works  of 
art  that  women  get  through?  The  worsted-work  sofas, 
the  counterpanes  patched  or  knitted  (but  these  are 
among  the  old-fashioned  in  the  country),  the  bushels  of 


THE  RAVENSWING  305 

pincushions,  the  albums  they  laboriously  fill,  the  tremen- 
dous pieces  of  music  they  practise,  the  thousand  other 
fiddle-faddles  which  occupy  the  attention  of  the  dear 
souls— nay,  have  we  not  seen  them  seated  of  evenings  in 
a  squad  or  company,  Louisa  employed  at  the  worsted- 
work  before  mentioned,  Eliza  at  the  pincushions,  Amelia 
at  card-racks  or  filagree  matches,  and,  in  the  midst,  The- 
odosia  with  one  of  the  candles,  reading  out  a  novel 
aloud  ?    Ah !  my  dear  sir,  mortal  creatures  must  be  very 
hard  put  to  it  for  amusement,  be  sure  of  that,  when  they 
are  forced  to  gather  together  in  a  company  and  hear  nov- 
els read  aloud !    They  only  do  it  because  they  can't  help 
it,  depend  upon  it :  it  is  a  sad  life,  a  poor  pastime.    Mr. 
Dickens,  in  his  American  book,  tells  of  the  prisoners  at 
the  silent  prison,  how  they  had  ornamented  their  rooms, 
some  of  them  with  a  frightful  prettiness  and  elaboration. 
Women's  fancy-work  is  of  this  sort  often— only  prison 
work,  done  because  there  was  no  other  exercising-ground 
for  their  poor  little  thoughts  and  fingers ;  and  hence  these 
wonderful  pincushions  are  executed,  these  counterpanes 
woven,   these   sonatas   learned.      By   everything   senti- 
mental, when  I  see  two  kind,  innocent,  fresh-cheeked 
young  women  go  to  a  piano,  and  sit  down  opposite  to 
it  upon  two  chairs  piled  with  more  or  less  music-books 
(according  to  their  convenience),   and,   so  seated,   go 
tlirough  a  set  of  double-barrelled  variations  upon  this  or 
that  tune  by  Herz  or  Kalkbrenner,  — I  say,  far  from  re- 
ceiving any  satisfaction  at  the  noise  made  by  the  per- 
formance, my  too  susceptible  heart  is  given  up  entirely 
to  bleeding  for  the  performers.    What  hours,  and  weeks, 
nay,  preparatory  years  of  study,  has  that  infernal  jig 
cost  them!    What  sums  lias  papa  paid,  wliat  scoldings 
has  mamma  administered   ("  Lady  Bullblock  does  not 


306  MEN'S  WIVES 

play  herself,"  Sir  Thomas  says,  "  but  she  has  naturally 
the  finest  ear  for  music  ever  known! ")  ;  what  evidences 
of  slavery,  in  a  word,  are  there!  It  is  the  condition  of 
the  young  lady's  existence.  She  breakfasts  at  eight,  she 
does  "  Mangnall's  Questions  "  with  the  governess  till  ten, 
she  practises  till  one,  she  walks  in  the  square  with  bars 
round  her  till  two,  then  she  practises  again,  then  she  sews 
or  hems,  or  reads  French,  or  Hume's  "  History,"  then 
she  comes  down  to  play  to  papa,  because  he  likes  music 
whilst  he  is  asleep  after  dinner,  and  then  it  is  bed-time, 
and  the  morrow  is  another  day  with  what  are  called  the 
same  "  duties  "  to  be  gone  through.  A  friend  of  mine 
went  to  call  at  a  nobleman's  house  the  other  day,  and  one 
of  the  young  ladies  of  the  house  came  into  the  room  with 
a  tray  on  her  head ;  this  tray  was  to  give  Lady  Maria  a 
graceful  carriage.  31  on  Dieu!  and  who  knows  but  at 
that  moment  Lady  Bell  was  at  work  with  a  pair  of  her 
dumb  namesakes,  and  Lady  Sophy  lying  flat  on  a 
stretching-board?  I  could  write  whole  articles  on  this 
theme:  but  peace!  we  are  keeping  Mrs.  Walker  waiting 
all  the  while. 

Well,  then,  if  the  above  disquisitions  have  anything  to 
do  with  the  story,  as  no  doubt  they  have,  I  wish  it  to  be 
understood  that,  during  her  husband's  absence,  and  her 
own  solitary  confinement,  ]Mrs.  Howard  Walker  be- 
stowed a  prodigious  quantity  of  her  time  and  energy  on 
the  cultivation  of  her  musical  talent;  and  having,  as  be- 
fore stated,  a  very  fine  loud  voice,  speedily  attained  no 
ordinary  skill  in  the  use  of  it.  She  first  had  for  teacher 
little  Podmore,  the  fat  chorus-master  at  "  The  Wells," 
and  who  had  taught  her  mother  the  "  Tink-a-tink  "  song 
which  has  been  such  a  favourite  since  it  first  appeared. 
He  grounded  her  well,  and  bade  her  eschew  the  singing 


THE  RAVENSWING  307 

of  all  those  "  Eagle  Tavern  "  ballads  in  which  her  heart 
formerly  delighted;  and  when  he  had  brought  her  to  a 
certain  point  of  skill,  the  honest  little  chorus-master  said 
she  should  have  a  still  better  instructor,  and  wrote  a  note 
to  Captain  Walker  (inclosing  his  own  little  account), 
speaking  in  terms  of  the  most  flattering  encomium  of  his 
lady's  progress,  and  recommending  that  she  should  take 
lessons  of  the  celebrated  Baroski.  Captain  Walker  dis- 
missed Podmore  then,  and  engaged  Signor  Baroski,  at 
a  vast  expense ;  as  he  did  not  fail  to  tell  his  wife.  In  fact, 
he  owed  Baroski  no  less  than  two  hundred  and  twenty 
guineas  when  he  was  .  .  .  But  we  are  advancing  mat- 
ters. 

Little  Baroski  is  the  author  of  the  opera  of  "  Elioga- 
balo,"  of  the  oratorio  of  "  Purgatorio,"  which  made  such 
an  immense  sensation,  of  songs  and  ballet-musics  innum- 
erable. He  is  a  German  by  birth,  and  shows  such  an  out- 
rageous partiality  for  pork  and  sausages,  and  attends  at 
church  so  constantly,  that  I  am  sure  there  cannot  be  any 
foundation  in  the  story  that  he  is  a  member  of  the  ancient 
religion.  He  is  a  fat  little  man,  with  a  hooked  nose  and 
jetty  whiskers,  and  coal-black  shining  eyes,  and  plenty 
of  rings  and  jewels  on  his  fingers  and  about  his  person, 
and  a  very  considerable  portion  of  his  shirt-sleeves  turned 
over  his  coat  to  take  the  air.  His  great  hands  (which  can 
sprawl  over  half  a  piano,  and  produce  those  effects  on 
the  instrument  for  which  he  is  celebrated)  are  encased  in 
lemon-coloured  kids,  new,  or  cleaned  daily.  Parentheti- 
cally, let  us  ask  why  so  many  men,  with  coarse  red  wrists 
and  big  hands,  persist  in  the  white  kid  glove  and  wrist- 
band system?  Baroski's  gloves  alone  must  cost  him  a 
little  fortune;  only  he  says  with  a  leer,  when  asked  the 
question,  "  Get  along  vid  you;  don't  you  know  dere  is  a 


308  MEN'S  WIVES 

gloveress  that  lets  me  have  dem  very  sheap?  "  He  rides 
in  the  Park ;  has  splendid  lodgings  in  Dover  Street ;  and 
is  a  member  of  the  "  Regent  Club,"  where  he  is  a  great 
source  of  amusement  to  the  members,  to  whom  he  tells 
astonishing  stories  of  his  successes  with  the  ladies,  and 
for  whom  he  has  always  play  and  opera  tickets  in  store. 
His  eye  glistens  and  his  little  heart  beats  when  a  lord 
speaks  to  him;  and  he  has  been  known  to  spend  large 
sums  of  money  in  giving  treats  to  young  sprigs  of  fash- 
ion at  Richmond  and  elsewhere.  "  In  my  bolyticks,"  he 
says,  "  I  am  consarevatifF  to  de  bag-bone."  In  fine,  he 
is  a  puppy,  and  withal  a  man  of  considerable  genius  in 
his  profession. 

This  gentleman  then  undertook  to  complete  the  mu- 
sical education  of  Mrs.  Walker.  He  expressed  himself 
at  once  "  enshanted  vid  her  gababilities,"  found  that  the 
extent  of  her  voice  was  "  brodigious,"  and  guaranteed 
that  she  should  become  a  first-rate  singer.  The  pupil 
was  apt,  the  master  was  exceedingly  skilful;  and,  ac- 
cordingly, Mrs.  Walker's  progress  was  very  remarkable : 
although,  for  her  part,  honest  Mrs.  Crump,  who  used  to 
attend  her  daughter's  lessons,  would  grumble  not  a  little 
at  the  new  system,  and  the  endless  exercises  which  she, 
Morgiana,  was  made  to  go  through.  It  was  very  differ- 
ent in  her  time,  she  said.  Incledon  knew  no  music,  and 
who  could  sing  so  well  now?  Give  her  a  good  English 
ballad ;  it  was  a  thousand  times  sweeter  than  your  "  Fi- 
garos "  and  "  Semiramides." 

In  spite  of  these  objections,  however,  and  with  amaz- 
ing perseverance  and  cheerfulness,  Mrs.  Walker  pur- 
sued the  method  of  study  pointed  out  to  her  by  her  mas- 
ter. As  soon  as  her  husband  went  to  the  City  in  the 
morning  her  operations  began;  if  he  remained  away  at 


THE  RAVEN  SWING  309 

dinner,  her  labours  still  continued :  nor  is  it  necessary  for 
me  to  particularize  her  course  of  study,  nor,  indeed,  pos- 
sible; for,  between  ourselves,  none  of  the  male  Fitz- 
Boodles  ever  could  sing  a  note,  and  the  jargon  of  scales 
and  solfeggios  is  quite  unknown  to  me.  But  as  no  man 
can  have  seen  persons  addicted  to  music  without  remark- 
ing the  prodigious  energies  they  display  in  the  pursuit, 
as  there  is  no  father  of  daughters,  however  ignorant,  but 
is  aware  of  the  piano-rattling  and  voice-exercising  which 
goes  on  in  his  house  from  morning  till  night,  so  let  all 
fancy,  without  further  inquiry,  how  the  heroine  of  our 
story  was  at  this  stage  of  her  existence  occupied. 

Walker  was  delighted  with  her  progress,  and  did 
everything  but  pay  Baroski,  her  instructor.  We  know 
why  he  didn't  pay.  It  was  his  nature  not  to  pay  bills,  ex- 
cept on  extreme  compulsion;  but  why  did  not  Baroski 
employ  that  extreme  compulsion?  Because,  if  he  had  re- 
ceived his  money,  he  would  have  lost  his  pupil,  and  be- 
cause he  loved  his  pupil  more  than  money.  Rather  than 
lose  her,  he  would  have  given  her  a  guinea  as  well  as  her 
cachet.  He  would  sometimes  disappoint  a  great  per- 
sonage, but  he  never  missed  his  attendance  on  her;  and 
the  truth  must  out,  that  he  was  in  love  with  her,  as 
Woolsey  and  Eglantine  had  been  before. 

"  By  the  immortel  Chofe!  "  he  would  say,  "  dat  letell 
ding  sents  me  mad  vid  her  big  ice!  But  only  vait  avile: 
in  six  veeks  I  can  bring  any  voman  in  England  on  her 
knees  to  me;  and  you  shall  see  vat  I  vill  do  vid  my  ^lor- 
giana."  He  attended  her  for  six  weeks  punctually,  and 
yet  Morgiana  was  never  brought  down  on  her  knees ;  he 
exhausted  his  best  stock  of  "  gomblimends,"  and  she 
never  seemed  disposed  to  receive  them  with  anything  but 
laughter.    And,  as  a  matter  of  course,  he  only  grew  more 


310  MEN'S  WIVES 

infatuated  with  the  lovely  creature  who  was  so  provok- 
ingly  good-humoured  and  so  laughingly  cruel. 

Benjamin  Baroski  was  one  of  the  chief  ornaments  of 
the  musical  profession  in  London;  he  charged  a  guinea 
for  a  lesson  of  three-quarters  of  an  hour  abroad,  and  he 
had,  furthermore,  a  school  at  his  own  residence,  where 
pupils  assembled  in  considerable  numbers,  and  of  that 
curious  mixed  kind  which  those  may  see  who  frequent 
these  places  of  instruction.  There  were  very  innocent 
young  ladies  with  their  mammas,  who  would  hurry  them 
off  trembling  to  the  farther  corner  of  the  room  when  cer- 
tain doubtful  professional  characters  made  their  appear- 
ance. There  Avas  Miss  Grigg,  who  sang  at  the  "  Found- 
ling," and  Mr.  Johnson,  who  sang  at  the  "  Eagle  Tav- 
ern," and  Madame  Fioravanti  (a  very  doubtful  char- 
acter), who  sang  nowhere,  but  was  always  coming  out 
at  the  Italian  Opera.  There  was  Lumley  Limpiter 
(Lord  Tweedledale's  son) ,  one  of  the  most  accomplished 
tenors  in  town,  and  who,  we  have  heard,  sings  with  the 
professionals  at  a  hundred  concerts;  and  with  him,  too, 
was  Captain  Guzzard  of  the  Guards,  with  his  tremen- 
dous bass  voice,  which  all  the  world  declared  to  be  as 
fine  as  Porto's,  and  who  shared  the  applause  of  Baroski's 
school  with  Mr.  Bulger,  the  dentist  of  Sackville  Street, 
who  neglected  his  ivory  and  gold  plates  for  his  voice,  as 
every  unfortunate  individual  will  do  who  is  bitten  by  the 
music  mania.  Then  among  the  ladies  there  were  a  half- 
score  of  dubious  pale  governesses  and  professionals  with 
turned  frocks  and  lank  damp  bandeaux  of  hair  under 
shabby  little  bonnets ;  luckless  creatures  these,  who  were 
parting  with  their  poor  little  store  of  half -guineas  to  be 
enabled  to  say  they  were  pupils  of  Signor  Baroski,  and 


THE   RAVENSWING  311 

so  get  pupils  of  their  own  among  the  British  youths,  or 
employment  in  the  choruses  of  the  theatres. 

The  prima  donna  of  the  little  company  was  Amelia 
Larkins,  Baroski's  own  articled  pupil,  on  whose  future 
reputation  the  eminent  master  staked  his  own,  whose 
profits  he  was  to  share,  and  whom  he  had  farmed,  to  this 
end,  from  her  father,  a  most  respectable  sheriff's  officer's 
assistant,  and  now,  by  his  daughter's  exertions,  a  consid- 
erable capitalist.  Amelia  is  blonde  and  blue-eyed,  her 
complexion  is  as  bright  as  snow,  her  ringlets  of  the  colour 
of  straw,  her  figure —  but  why  describe  her  figure?  Has 
not  all  the  world  seen  her  at  the  Theatres  Royal  and  in 
America  under  the  name  of  Miss  Ligonier? 

Until  ]\Irs.  Walker  arrived.  Miss  Larkins  was  the  un- 
disputed princess  of  the  Baroski  company — the  Semira- 
mide,  the  Rosina,  the  Tamina,  the  Donna  Anna.  Ba- 
roski vaunted  her  everywhere  as  the  great  rising  genius 
of  the  day,  bade  Catalina  look  to  her  laurels,  and  ques- 
tioned whether  ISliss  Stephens  could  sing  a  ballad  like 
his  pupil.  ]\Irs.  Howard  Walker  arrived,  and  created, 
on  the  first  occasion,  no  small  sensation.  She  improved, 
and  the  little  society  became  speedily  divided  into  Walk- 
erites  and  Larkinsians;  and  between  these  two  ladies  (as, 
indeed,  between  Guzzard  and  Bulger  before  mentioned, 
between  Miss  Brunck  and  Miss  Horsman,  the  two  con- 
traltos, and  between  the  chorus-singers,  after  their  kind) 
a  great  rivalry  arose.  Larkins  was  certainly  the  better 
singer;  but  could  her  straw-coloured  curls  and  dumpy 
high-shouldered  figure  bear  any  comparison  with  the 
jetty  ringlets  and  stately  form  of  Morgiana?  Did  not 
Mrs.  Walker,  too,  come  to  the  music-lesson  in  her  car- 
riage, and  with  a  black  velvet  gown  and  Cashmere  shawl, 


312  MEN'S  WIVES 

while  poor  Larkins  meekly  stepped  from  Bell  Yard, 
Temple  Bar,  in  an  old  print  gown  and  clogs,  which  she 
left  in  the  hall?  "  Larkins  sing!  "  said  Mrs.  Crump,  sar- 
castically; "  I'm  sure  she  ought;  her  mouth's  big  enough 
to  sing  a  duet."  Poor  Larkins  had  no  one  to  make  epi- 
grams in  her  behoof ;  her  mother  was  at  home  tending  the 
younger  ones,  her  father  abroad  following  the  duties  of 
his  profession ;  she  had  but  one  protector,  as  she  thought, 
and  that  one  was  Baroski.  Mrs.  Crump  did  not  fail  to 
tell  Lumley  Limpiter  of  her  own  former  triumphs,  and  to 
sing  him  "  Tink-a-tink,"  which  we  have  previously  heard, 
and  to  state  how  in  former  days  she  had  been  called  the 
Ravenswing.  And  Lumley,  on  this  hint,  made  a  poem, 
in  which  he  compared  Morgiana's  hair  to  the  plumage 
of  the  Raven's  wing,  and  Larkinissa's  to  that  of  the  ca- 
nary; by  which  two  names  the  ladies  began  soon  to  be 
known  in  the  school. 

Ere  long,  the  flight  of  the  Ravenswing  became  evi- 
dently stronger,  whereas  that  of  the  canary  was  seen  evi- 
dently to  droop.  When  Morgiana  sang,  all  the  room 
would  cry  "  bravo;  "  when  Amelia  performed,  scarce  a 
hand  was  raised  for  applause  of  her,  except  Morgiana's 
own,  and  that  the  Larkinses  thought  was  lifted  in  odious 
triumph,  rather  than  in  sympathy,  for  Miss  L.  was  of  an 
envious  turn,  and  little  understood  the  generosity  of  her 
rival. 

At  last,  one  day,  the  crowning  victory  of  the  Ravens- 
wing came.  In  the  trio  of  Baroski's  own  opera  of  "  Elio- 
gabalo,"  "  Rosy  lips  and  rosy  wine,"  Miss  Larkins,  who 
was  evidently  unwell,  was  taking  the  part  of  the  English 
captive,  which  she  had  sung  in  public  concerts  before 
royal  dukes,  and  with  considerable  applause,  and,  from 
some  reason,  performed  it  so  ill,  that  Baroski,  slapping 


THE   RAVENSWING  313 

down  the  music  on  the  piano  in  a  fury,  cried,  "  Mrs. 
Howard  Walker,  as  ]Miss  Larkins  cannot  sing  to-day, 
will  you  favour  us  by  taking  the  part  of  Boadicetta?  " 
JMrs.  Walker  got  up  smilingly  to  obey — the  triumph  was 
too  great  to  be  withstood;  and,  as  she  advanced  to  the 
piano,  jNIiss  Larkins  looked  wildly  at  her,  and  stood  silent 
for  awhile,  and,  at  last,  shrieked  out,  "  Benjamin! "  in  a 
tone  of  extreme  agony,  and  dropped  fainting  down  on 
the  ground.  Benjamin  looked  extremely  red,  it  must 
be  confessed,  at  being  thus  called  by  what  we  shall  de- 
nominate his  Christian  name,  and  Limpiter  looked  round 
at  Guzzard,  and  Miss  Brunck  nudged  ]Miss  Horsman, 
and  the  lesson  concluded  rather  abruptly  that  day;  for 
]\Iiss  Larkins  was  carried  off  to  the  next  room,  laid  on  a 
couch,  and  sprinkled  with  water. 

Good-natured  Morgiana  insisted  that  her  mother 
should  take  INIiss  Larkins  to  Bell  Yard  in  her  carriage, 
and  went  herself  home  on  foot;  but  I  don't  know  that 
this  piece  of  kindness  prevented  Larkins  from  hating 
her.    I  should  doubt  if  it  did. 

Hearing  so  much  of  his  wife's  skill  as  a  singer,  the  as- 
tute Captain  Walker  determined  to  take  advantage  of  it 
for  the  purpose  of  increasing  his  "  connection."  He  had 
Lumley  Limpiter  at  his  house  before  long,  which  was, 
indeed,  no  great  matter,  for  honest  Lum  would  go  any- 
where for  a  good  dinner,  and  an  opportunity  to  show  off 
his  voice  afterwards,  and  Ijimiley  was  begged  to  bring 
any  more  clerks  in  the  Treasury  of  his  acquaintance; 
Captain  Guzzard  was  invited,  and  any  officers  of  the 
Guards  whom  he  might  choose  to  bring;  Bulger  received 
occasional  cards:, — in  a  word,  and  after  a  short  time,  INIrs. 
Howard  Walker's  musical  ])arties  began  to  be  consider- 
ably suivies.    Her  husband  had  the  satisfaction  to  see  his 


314  MEN'S  WIVES 

rooms  filled  by  many  great  personages ;  and  once  or  twice 
in  return  (indeed,  whenever  she  was  wanted,  or  when 
people  could  not  afford  to  hire  the  first  singers)  she  was 
asked  to  parties  elsewhere,  and  treated  with  that  killing 
civility  which  our  English  aristocracy  knows  how  to  be- 
stow on  artists.  Clever  and  wise  aristocracy !  It  is  sweet 
to  mark  your  ways,  and  study  your  commerce  with  in- 
ferior men. 

I  was  just  going  to  commence  a  tirade  regarding  the 
aristocracy  here,  and  to  rage  against  that  cool  assump- 
tion of  superiority  which  distinguishes  their  lordships' 
commerce  with  artists  of  all  sorts :  that  politeness  which, 
if  it  condescend  to  receive  artists  at  all,  takes  care  to  have 
them  altogether,  so  that  there  can  be  no  mistake  about 
their  rank— that  august  patronage  of  art  which  rewards 
it  with  a  silly  flourish  of  knighthood,  to  be  sure,  but  takes 
care  to  exclude  it  from  any  contact  with  its  betters  in 
society, — I  was,  I  say,  just  going  to  commence  a  tirade 
against  the  aristocracy  for  excluding  artists  from  their 
company,  and  to  be  extremely  satirical  upon  them,  for 
instance,  for  not  receiving  my  friend  Morgiana,  when  it 
suddenly  came  into  my  head  to  ask,  was  Mrs.  Walker  fit 
to  move  in  the  best  society? — to  which  query  it  must 
humbly  be  replied  that  she  was  not.  Her  education  was 
not  such  as  to  make  her  quite  the  equal  of  Baker  Street. 
She  was  a  kind,  honest,  and  clever  creature,  but,  it  must 
be  confessed,  not  refined.  Wherever  she  went  she  had, 
if  not  the  finest,  at  any  rate  the  most  showy  gown. in  the 
room ;  her  ornaments  were  the  biggest :  her  hats,  toques, 
berets,  marabouts,  and  other  fallals,  always  the  most  con- 
spicuous. She  drops  "  h's  "  here  and  there.  I  have  seen 
her  eat  pease  with  a  knife  ( and  Walker,  scowling  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  table,  striving  in  vain  to  catch  her 


THE   RAVENSWING  315 

eye)  ;  and  I  shall  never  forget  Lady  Smigsmag's  horror 
when  she  asked  for  porter  at  dinner  at  Richmond,  and 
began  to  drink  it  out  of  the  pewter  pot.  It  was  a  fine 
sight.  She  lifted  up  the  tankard  with  one  of  the  finest 
arms,  covered  with  the  biggest  bracelets  ever  seen;  and 
had  a  bird  of  paradise  on  her  head,  that  curled  round  the 
pewter  disk  of  the  pot  as  she  raised  it,  like  a  halo.  These 
pecuHarities  she  had,  and  has  still.  She  is  best  away 
from  the  genteel  world,  that  is  the  fact.  When  she  says 
that  "  The  weather  is  so  'ot  that  it  is  quite  debiliating;  " 
when  she  laughs,  when  she  hits  her  neighbour  at  dinner 
on  the  side  of  the  waistcoat  (as  she  will  if  he  should  say 
anything  that  amuses  her),  she  does  what  is  perfectly 
natural  and  unaffected  on  her  part,  but  what  is  not  cus- 
tomarily done  among  polite  persons,  who  can  sneer  at 
her  odd  manners  and  her  vanity,  but  don't  know  the 
kindness,  honesty,  and  simplicity  which  distinguish  her. 
This  point  being  admitted,  it  follows,  of  course,  that  the 
tirade  against  the  aristocracy  would,  in  the  present  in- 
stance, be  out  of  place— so  it  shall  be  reserved  for  some 
other  occasion. 

The  Ravenswing  was  a  person  admirably  disposed  by 
nature  to  be  happy.  She  had  a  disposition  so  kindly 
that  any  small  attention  would  satisfy  it;  was  pleased 
when  alone;  was  delighted  in  a  crowd;  was  charmed  with 
a  joke,  however  old;  was  always  ready  to  laugh,  to  sing, 
to  dance,  or  to  be  merry ;  was  so  tender-hearted  that  the 
smallest  ballad  would  make  her  cry,  and  hence  was  sup- 
posed, by  many  persons,  to  be  extremely  affected,  and 
iDy  almost  all,  to  be  a  downright  coquette.  Several  com- 
petitors for  her  favour  presented  themselves  besides 
Baroski.  Young  dandies  used  to  canter  round  her  phae- 
ton in  the  park,  and  might  be  seen  haunting  her  doors  in 


316  MEN'S  WIVES 

the  mornings.  The  fashionable  artist  of  the  day  made 
a  drawing  of  her,  which  was  engraved  and  sold  in  the 
shops;  a  copy  of  it  was  printed  in  a  song,  "  Black-eyed 
Maiden  of  Araby,"  the  words  by  Desmond  Mulligan, 
Esq.,  the  music  composed  and  dedicated  to  Mrs.  How- 
ard Walker,  by  her  most  faithful  and  obliged  servant, 
Benjamin  Baroski;  and  at  night  her  Opera-box  was  full. 
Her  Opera-box?  Yes,  the  heiress  of  the  "Bootjack" 
actually  had  an  0]3era-box,  and  some  of  the  most  fash- 
ionable manhood  of  London  attended  it. 

Now,  in  fact,  was  the  time  of  her  greatest  prosperity ; 
and  her  husband  gathering  these  fashionable  characters 
about  him,  extended  his  "  agency  "  considerably,  and  be- 
gan to  thank  his  stars  that  he  had  married  a  woman  who 
was  as  good  as  a  fortune  to  him. 

In  extending  his  agency,  however,  Mr.  Walker  in- 
creased his  expenses  proportionately,  and  multiplied  his 
debts  accordingly.  More  furniture  and  more  plate,  more 
wines  and  more  dinner-parties,  became  necessary;  the 
little  pony-phaeton  was  exchanged  for  a  brougham  of 
evenings;  and  we  may  fancy  our  old  friend  Mr.  Eg- 
lantine's rage  and  disgust,  as  he  looked  up  from  the  pit 
of  the  Opera,  to  see  Mrs.  Walker  surrounded  by  what 
he  called  "  the  swell  young  nobs  "  about  London,  bow- 
ing to  my  lord,  and  laughing  with  his  grace,  and  led  to 
her  carriage  by  Sir  John. 

The  Ravenswing's  position  at  this  period  was  rather 
an  exceptional  one.  She  was  an  honest  woman,  visited 
by  that  peculiar  class  of  our  aristocracy  who  chiefly  asso- 
ciate with  ladies  who  are  not  honest.  She  laughed  with 
all,  but  she  encouraged  none.  Old  Crump  was  con- 
stantly at  her  side  now  when  she  appeared  in  public, 
the  most  watchful  of  mammas,  always  awake  at  the 


THE   RAVENSWING  317 

Opera,  though  she  seemed  to  be  always  asleep;  but  no 
dandy  debauchee  could  deceive  her  vigilance,  and  for 
this  reason,  Walker,  who  disliked  her,  (as  every  man 
naturally  will,  must,  and  should  dislike  his  mother-in- 
law,  )  was  contented  to  suffer  her  in  his  house  to  act  as  a 
chaperon  to  jNIorgiana. 

None  of  the  young  dandies  ever  got  admission  of 
mornings  to  the  little  mansion  in  the  Edgeware  Road; 
the  blinds  w^ere  always  down;  and  though  you  might 
hear  JNIorgiana's  voice  half  across  the  Park  as  she  was 
practising,  yet  the  youthful  hall-porter  in  the  sugar-loaf 
buttons  was  instructed  to  deny  her,  and  always  declared 
that  his  mistress  w^as  gone  out,  with  the  most  admirable 
assurance. 

After  some  two  years  of  her  life  of  splendour,  there 
were,  to  be  sure,  a  good  number  of  morning  visitors,  who 
came  with  single  knocks,  and  asked  for  Captain  Walker ; 
but  these  were  no  more  admitted  than  the  dandies  afore- 
said, and  were  referred,  generally,  to  the  Captain's  office, 
whither  they  went  or  not  at  their  convenience.  The  only 
man  w^ho  obtained  admission  into  the  house  was  Baroski, 
whose  cab  transported  him  thrice  a  week  to  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  Connaught  Square,  and  who  obtained  ready 
entrance  in  his  professional  capacity. 

But  even  then,  and  much  to  the  wicked  little  music- 
master's  disappointment,  the  dragon  Crump  was  always 
at  the  piano  with  her  endless  worsted  work,  or  else  read- 
ing her  unfailing  Sunday  Times;  and  Baroski  could  only 
employ  "  de  langvitch  of  de  ice,"  as  he  called  it,  with  his 
fair  pupil,  who  used  to  mimic  his  manner  of  rolling  his 
eyes  about  afterwards,  and  perform  "  Baroski  in  love," 
for  the  amusement  of  her  husband  and  her  mamma.  The 
former  had  his  reasons  for  overlooking  the  attentions  of 


318  MEN'S  WIVES 

the  little  music-master ;  and  as  for  the  latter,  had  she  not 
been  on  the  stage,  and  had  not  many  hundreds  of  per- 
sons, in  jest  or  earnest,  made  love  to  her?  What  else 
can  a  pretty  woman  expect,  who  is  much  before  the  pub- 
lic? And  so  the  worthy  mother  counselled  her  daughter 
to  bear  these  attentions  with  good  humour,  rather  than 
to  make  them  a  subject  of  perpetual  alarm  and  quarrel. 

Baroski,  then,  w^as  allowed  to  go  on  being  in  love,  and 
was  never  in  the  least  disturbed  in  his  passion ;  and  if  he 
was  not  successful,  at  least  the  little  wretch  could  have 
the  pleasure  of  hinting  that  he  was,  and  looking  particu- 
larly roguish  when  the  Ravenswing  was  named,  and  as- 
suring his  friends  at  the  club,  that  "  upon  his  vort 
dere  vas  no  trut  in  dat  rehort." 

At  last  one  day  it  happened  that  Mrs.  Crump  did  not 
arrive  in  time  for  her  daughter's  lesson  (perhaps  it 
rained,  and  the  omnibus  was  full— a  smaller  circum- 
stance than  that  has  changed  a  whole  life  ere  now)  — Mrs. 
Crump  did  not  arrive,  and  Baroski  did,  and  Morgiana, 
seeing  no  great  harm,  sat  down  to  her  lesson  as  usual, 
and  in  the  midst  of  it  down  went  the  music-master  on  his 
knees,  and  made  a  declaration  in  the  most  eloquent  terms 
he  could  muster. 

"  Don't  be  a  fool,  Baroski!  "  said  the  lady—  (I  can't 
help  it  if  her  language  was  not  more  choice,  and  if  she 
did  not  rise  with  cold  dignity,  exclaiming,  "  Unhand  me, 
sir!  ")  —  "  don't  be  a  fool!  "  said  Mrs.  Walker,  "  but  get 
up  and  let's  finish  the  lesson." 

"  You  hard-hearted  adorable  little  greature,  vil  you 
not  listen  to  me?  " 

"  No,  I  vill  not  listen  to  you,  Benjamin!  "  concluded 
the  lady;  "  get  up  and  take  a  chair,  and  don't  go  on  in 
that  ridiklous  way,  don't!  " 


THE   RAVENSWING  319 

But  Baroski,  having  a  speech  by  heart,  determined  to 
deUver  himself  of  it  in  that  posture,  and  begged  Mor- 
giana  not  to  turn  avay  her  divine  hice,  and  to  Hsten  to 
de  voice  of  his  despair,  and  so  forth ;  he  seized  the  lady's 
hand,  and  was  going  to  press  it  to  his  lips,  when  she  said, 
with  more  sj)irit,  perhaps,  than  grace, — 

"  Leave  go  my  hand,  sir;  I'll  box  your  ears  if  you 
don't!" 

But  Baroski  wouldn't  release  her  hand,  and  was  pro- 
ceeding to  imprint  a  kiss  upon  it,  and  Mrs.  Crump,  who 
had  taken  the  omnibus  at  a  quarter  past  twelve  instead 
of  that  at  twelve,  had  just  opened  the  drawing-room  door 
and  w^as  walking  in,  when  Morgiana,  turning  as  red  as 
a  peony,  and  unable  to  disengage  her  left  hand  which 
the  musician  held,  raised  up  her  right  hand,  and,  with  all 
her  might  and  main,  gave  her  lover  such  a  tremendous 
slap  in  the  face  as  caused  him  abruptly  to  release  the 
hand  which  he  held,  and  would  have  laid  him  prostrate 
on  the  carpet  but  for  INIrs.  Crump,  who  rushed  forward 
and  prevented  him  from  falling  by  administering  right 
and  left  a  whole  shower  of  slaps,  such  as  he  had  never 
endured  since  the  day  he  was  at  school. 

"What  imperence!"  said  that  worthy  lady;  "you'll 
lay  hands  on  my  daughter  will  you?  (one,  two) .  You'll 
insult  a  woman  in  distress,  will  you,  you  little  coward? 
(one,  two).  Take  that,  and  mind  your  manners,  you 
filthy  monster!  " 

Baroski  bounced  up  in  a  fury.  "  By  Chofe,  you  shall 
hear  of  dis ! "  shouted  he ;  "  you  shall  pay  me  dis !  " 

"  As  many  more  as  you  please,  little  Benjamin,"  cried 
the  widow.  "Augustus"  (to  the  page),  "was  that  the 
Captain's  knock?  "  At  this  Baroski  made  for  his  hat. 
"Augustus,  show  this  imperence  to  the  door,  and  if  he 


320  MEN'S  WIVES 

tries    to    come    in    again,    call  a    policeman:    do    you 
hear?  " 

The  music-master  vanished  very  rapidly,  and  the  two 
ladies,  instead  of  being  frightened  or  falling  into  hys- 
terics as  their  betters  would  have  done,  laughed  at  the 
odious  monster's  discomfiture,  as  they  called  him.  "  Such 
a  man  as  that  set  himself  up  against  my  Howard!  "  said 
Morgiana,  with  becoming  pride;  but  it  was  agreed  be- 
tween them  that  Howard  should  know  nothing  of  what 
had  occurred,  for  fear  of  quarrels,  or  lest  he  should  be 
annoyed.  So  when  he  came  home  not  a  word  was  said; 
and  only  that  his  wife  met  him  wdth  more  warmth  than 
usual,  you  could  not  have  guessed  that  anything  ex- 
traordinary had  occurred.  It  is  not  my  fault  that  my 
heroine's  sensibilities  were  not  more  keen,  that  she  had 
not  the  least  occasion  for  sal-volatile  or  symptom  of  a 
fainting  fit;  but  so  it  was,  and  Mr.  Howard  Walker 
knew  nothing  of  the  quarrel  between  his  wife  and  her 
instructor,  until  .... 

Until  he  w^as  arrested  next  day  at  the  suit  of  Benja- 
min Baroski  for  two  hundred  and  twenty  guineas,  and, 
in  default  of  payment,  was  conducted  by  Mr.  Tobias 
Larkins  to  his  principal's  lock-up  house  in  Chancery 
Lane. 


CHAPTER  V 


IN    WHICH    MR.    WALKER    FALLS    INTO    DIFFICULTIES,    AND    MRS. 
WALKER    MAKES    MANY    FOOLISH    ATTEMPTS    TO    RESCUE    HIM 

I  HOPE  the  beloved  reader  is  not  silly  enough  to 
imagine  that  Mr.  Walker,  on  finding  himself  in- 
spunged  for  debt  in  Chancery  Lane,  was  so  foolish  as 


THE   RAVENSWING  321 

to  think  of  applying  to  any  of  his  friends  (those  great 
personages  who  have  appeared  every  now  and  then  in 
the  course  of  this  httle  history,  and  have  served  to  give 
it  a  fashionable  air).  No,  no;  he  knew  the  world  too 
well:  and  that,  though  Billingsgate  would  give  him  as 
many  dozen  of  claret  as  he  could  carry  away  under  his 
belt,  as  the  phrase  is  (I  can't  help  it,  Madam,  if  the 
phrase  is  not  more  genteel) ,  and  though  Vauxhall  would 
lend  him  his  carriage,  slap  him  on  the  back,  and  dine  at 
his  house;  their  lordships  would  have  seen  ]Mr.  Walker 
depending  from  a  beam  in  front  of  the  Old  Bailey 
rather  than  have  helped  him  to  a  hundred  pounds. 

And  why,  forsooth,  should  we  expect  otherwise  in  the 
w^orld?  I  observe  that  men  who  complain  of  its  selfish- 
ness are  quite  as  selfish  as  the  world  is,  and  no  more 
liberal  of  money  than  their  neighbours ;  and  I  am  quite 
sure  with  regard  to  Captain  Walker  that  he  would  have 
treated  a  friend  in  want  exactly  as  he  when  in  want  was 
treated.  There  was  only  his  lady  who  was  in  the  least 
afflicted  by  his  captivity;  and  as  for  the  club,  that  went 
on,  we  are  bound  to  say,  exactly  as  it  did  on  the  day  pre- 
vious to  his  disappearance. 

By  the  way,  about  clubs — could  we  not,  but  for  fear 
of  detaining  the  fair  reader  too  long,  enter  into  a  whole- 
some dissertation  here,  on  the  manner  of  friendship  es- 
tablished in  those  institutions,  and  the  noble  feeling  of 
selfishness  which  they  are  likely  to  encourage  in  tlie 
male  race?  I  put  out  of  the  question  the  stale  topics  of 
complaint,  such  as  leaving  home,  encouraging  gorman- 
dising and  luxurious  habits,  &:c. ;  but  look  also  at  the 
dealings  of  club-men  with  one  another.  T^ook  at  the 
rush  for  the  evening  ])aper!  See  liow  Shiverton  orders 
a  fire  in  the  dog-days,  and  Swettenham  opens  the  win- 


322  MEN'S  WIVES 

dows  in  February.  See  how  Cramley  takes  the  whole 
breast  of  the  turkey  on  his  plate,  and  how  many  times 
Jenkins  sends  away  his  beggarly  half -pint  of  sherry! 
Clubbery  is  organised  egotism.  Club  intimacy  is  care- 
fully and  wonderfully  removed  from  friendship.  You 
meet  Smith  for  twenty  years,  exchange  the  day's  news 
with  him,  laugh  with  him  over  the  last  joke,  grow  as  well 
acquainted  as  two  men  may  be  together — and  one  day, 
at  the  end  of  the  list  of  members  of  the  club,  you  read  in 
a  little  paragraph  by  itself,  with  all  the  honours, 

MEMBER    DECEASED. 

Smith,  John,  Esq. 

or  he,  on  the  other  hand,  has  the  advantage  of  reading 
your  own  name  selected  for  a  similar  typographical  dis- 
tinction. There  it  is,  that  abominable  little  exclusive  list 
at  the  end  of  every  club-catalogue — you  can't  avoid  it. 
I  belong  to  eight  clubs  myi^elf,  and  know  that  one  year 
Fitz-Boodle,  George  Savage,  Esq.  (unless  it  should 
please  fate  to  remove  my  brother  and  his  six  sons,  when 
of  course  it  would  be  Fitz-Boodle,  Sir  George  Savage, 
Bart.)  will  appear  in  the  dismal  category.  There  is  that 
list;  down  I  must  go  in  it: — the  day  will  come,  and  I 
shan't  be  seen  in  the  bow-window,  some  one  else  will  be 
sitting  in  the  vacant  arm-chair:  the  rubber  will  begin  as 
usual,  and  j^et  somehow  Fitz  will  not  be  there.  "  Where's 
Fitz?  "  says  Trumpington,  just  arrived  from  the  Rhine. 
"Don't  you  know?"  says  Punter,  turning  down  his 
thumb  to  the  carpet.  "  You  led  the  club,  I  think?  "  says 
Ruff  to  his  partner  (the  othe?'  partner!),  and  the  waiter 
snuffs  the  candles. 


* 

* 

* 

* 

* 

* 

* 

* 

* 

* 

THE   RAVENSWING  323 

I  hope  in  the  course  of  the  above  httle  pause,  every 
single  member  of  a  club  who  reads  this  has  profited  b}^ 
the  perusal.  He  may  belong,  I  say,  to  eight  clubs,  he 
will  die  and  not  be  missed  by  any  of  the  five  thousand 
members.  Peace  be  to  him ;  the  waiters  will  forget  him, 
and  his  name  will  pass  away,  and  another  great-coat 
will  hang  on  the  hook  whence  his  own  used  to  be  de- 
pendent. 

And  this,  I  need  not  say,  is  the  beauty  of  the  club- 
institutions.  If  it  were  otherwise,  — if,  forsooth,  we  were 
to  be  sorry  when  our  friends  died,  or  to  draw  out  our 
purses  when  our  friends  were  in  want,  we  should  be  in- 
solvent, and  life  would  be  miserable.  Be  it  ours  to  but- 
ton up  our  pockets  and  our  hearts;  and  to  make  merry- 
it  is  enough  to  swim  down  this  life-stream  for  ourselves ; 
if  Poverty  is  clutching  hold  of  our  heels,  or  Friendship 
would  catch  an  arm,  kick  them  both  off.  Every  man  for 
himself,  is  the  word,  and  plenty  to  do  too. 

My  friend  Captain  Walker  had  practised  the  above 
maxims  so  long  and  resolutely  as  to  be  quite  aware  when 
he  came  himself  to  be  in  distress,  that  not  a  single  soul 
in  the  whole  universe  would  help  him,  and  he  took  his 
measures  accordingly. 

When  carried  to  Mr.  Bendigo's  lock-up  house,  he 
summoned  that  gentleman  in  a  very  haughty  way,  took 
a  blank  banker's  cheque  out  of  his  pocket-book,  and  fill- 
ing it  up  for  the  exact  sum  of  the  writ,  orders  Mr.  Ben- 
digo  forthwith  to  open  the  door  and  let  him  go  forth. 

Mr.  Bendigo,  smiling  with  exceeding  archness,  and 
putting  a  finger  covered  all  over  with  diamond  rings  to 
his  extremely  aquiline  nose,  inquired  of  ^Ir.  Walker 
whether  he  saw  anything  green  about  his  face?  intimating 
by  this  gay  and  good-humoured  interrogatory  his  suspi- 


324  MEN'S  WIVES 

cion  of  the  unsatisfactory  nature  of  the  document  handed 
over  to  him  by  Mr.  Walker. 

"  Hang  it,  sir!  "  says  Mr.  Walker,  "  go  and  get  the 
cheque  cashed,  and  be  quick  about  it.  Send  your  man  in 
a  cab,  and  here's  a  half-crown  to  pay  for  it."  The  con- 
fident air  somewhat  staggers  the  bailiif ,  who  asked  him 
whether  he  would  like  any  refreshment  while  his  man 
was  absent  getting  the  amount  of  the  cheque,  and  treated 
his  prisoner  with  great  civility  during  the  time  of  the 
messenger's  journey. 

DBut  as  Captain  Walker  had  but  a  balance  of  two 
pounds  five  and  twopence  (this  sum  was  afterwards  di- 
vided among  his  creditors,  the  law  expenses  being  pre- 
viously deducted  from  it) ,  the  bankers  of  course  declined 
to  cash  the  Captain's  draft  for  two  hundred  and  odd 
pounds,  simply  writing  the  words  "  no  effects  "  on  the 
paper ;  on  receiving  which  reply  Walker,  far  from  being 
cast  down,  burst  out  laughing  very  gaily,  produced  a 
real  five-pound  note,  and  called  upon  his  host  for  a  bottle 
of  champagne,  which  the  two  worthies  drank  in  perfect 
friendship  and  good-humour.  The  bottle  was  scarcely 
finished,  and  the  young  Israelitish  gentleman  who  acts  as 
waiter  in  Cursitor  Street  had  only  time  to  remove  the 
flask  and  the  glasses,  when  poor  Morgiana  with  a  flood 
of  tears  rushed  into  her  husband's  arms,  and  flung  her- 
self on  his  neck,  and  calling  him  her  "  dearest,  blessed 
Howard,"  would  have  fainted  at  his  feet;  but  that  he, 
breaking  out  in  a  fury  of  oaths,  asked  her  how,  after  get- 
ting him  into  that  scrape  through  her  infernal  extrava- 
gance, she  dared  to  show  her  face  before  him  ?  This  ad- 
dress speedily  frightened  the  poor  thing  out  of  her  faint- 
ing fit— there  is  nothing  so  good  for  female  hysterics  as 
a  little  conjugal  sternness,  nay  brutality,  as  many  hus- 


THE   RAVENSWING  325 

bands  can  aver  who  are  in  the  habit  of  employing  the 
remedy. 

"My  extravagance,  Howard?"  said  she,  in  a  faint 
way;  and  quite  put  off  her  purpose  of  swooning  by  the 
sudden  attack  made  upon  her — "  Surely,  nw  love,  you 
have  nothing  to  complain  of — " 

"  To  complain  of,  ma'am? "  roared  the  excellent 
Walker.  "  Is  two  hundred  guineas  to  a  music-master 
nothing  to  complain  of?  Did  you  bring  me  such  a  for- 
tune as  to  authorise  your  taking  guinea  lessons  ?  Haven't 
I  raised  you  out  of  your  sphere  of  life  and  introduced 
you  to  the  best  of  the  land?  Haven't  I  dressed  you  like 
a  duchess?  Haven't  I  been  for  you  such  a  husband  as 
very  few  women  in  the  world  ever  had,  madam? — answer 
me  that." 

"  Indeed,  Howard,  you  were  always  very  kind," 
sobbed  the  lady. 

"  Haven't  I  toiled  and  slaved  for  you, — been  out  all 
day  working  for  you?  Haven't  I  allowed  your  vulgar 
old  mother  to  come  to  your  house — to  my  house,  I  say? 
Haven't  I  done  all  this?  " 

She  could  not  deny  it,  and  Walker,  who  was  in  a  rage 
(and  when  a  man  is  in  a  rage,  for  what  on  earth  is  a  wife 
made  for  but  that  he  should  vent  his  rage  on  her?) ,  con- 
tinued for  some  time  in  this  strain,  and  so  abused,  fright- 
ened, and  overcame  poor  JMorgiana,  that  she  left  her  hus- 
band fully  convinced  that  she  was  the  most  guilty  of 
beings,  and  bemoaning  his  double  bad  fortune,  that  her 
Howard  was  ruined  and  she  the  cause  of  his  misfortunes. 

When  she  was  gone,  Mr.  Walker  resumed  his  equa- 
nimity (for  he  was  not  one  of  those  men  whom  a  few 
months  of  the  King's  lk*ncli  were  likely  to  terrify),  and 
drank  several  glasses  of  punch  in  company  with  his  host ; 


326  MEN'S  WIVES 

with  whom  in  perfect  cahnness  he  talked  over  his  affairs. 
That  he  intended  to  pay  his  debt  and  quit  the  spunging- 
house  next  day  is  a  matter  of  course;  no  one  ever  was 
yet  put  in  a  spunging-house  that  did  not  pledge  his  ve- 
racity he  intended  to  quit  it  to-morrow.  jNIr.  Bendigo 
said  he  should  be  heartily  glad  to  open  the  door  to  him, 
and  in  the  meantime  sent  out  diligently  to  see  among  his 
friends  if  there  were  anj^  more  detainers  against  the  Cap- 
tain, and  to  inform  the  Captain's  creditors  to  come  for- 
ward against  him. 

Morgiana  went  home  in  profound  grief,  it  may  be  im- 
agined, and  could  hardly  refrain  from  bursting  into  tears 
when  the  sugar-loaf  page  asked  whether  master  was 
coming  home  early,  or  whether  he  had  taken  his  key ;  she 
lay  awake  tossing  and  wretched  the  whole  night,  and 
very  early  in  the  morning  rose  up,  and  dressed,  and  went 
out. 

Before  nine  o'clock  she  was  in  Cursitor  Street,  and 
once  more  joyfully  bounced  into  her  husband's  arms; 
who  woke  up  yawning  and  swearing  somewhat,  with  a 
severe  headache,  occasioned  by  the  jollification  of  the 
previous  night:  for,  strange  though  it  may  seem,  there 
are  perhaps  no  places  in  Europe  where  jollity  is  more 
practised  than  in  prisons  for  debt ;  and  I  declare  for  my 
own  part  (I  mean,  of  course,  that  I  went  to  visit  a 
friend)  I  have  dined  at  Mr.  Aminadab's  as  sumptuously 
as  at  Long's. 

But  it  is  necessar}^  to  account  for  IMorgiana's  joy  ful- 
ness ;  which  was  strange  in  her  husband's  perplexity,  and 
after  her  sorrow  of  the  previous  night.  Well,  then,  when 
Mrs.  Walker  went  out  in  the  morning,  she  did  so  with  a 
very  large  basket  under  her  arm.     "  Shall  I  carry  the 


THE   RAVEXSWIXG  327 

basket,  ma'am?"  said  the  page,  seizing  it  with  much 
alacrity. 

"  No,  thank  you,"  cried  his  mistress,  with  equal  eager- 
ness; "  it's  only—" 

"  Of  course,  ma  am,"  replied  the  boy,  sneering,  "  I 

knew  it  was  that." 

"  Glass,"  continued  jNIrs.  Walker,  turning  extremely 
red.  "  Have  the  goodness  to  call  a  coach,  sir,  and  not  to 
speak  till  you  are  questioned." 

The  young  gentleman  disappeared  upon  his  errand: 
the  coach  was  called  and  came.  Mrs.  Walker  slipped 
into  it  with  her  basket,  and  the  page  went  downstairs  to 
his  companions  in  the  kitchen,  and  said,  "  It's  a  comin'! 
master's  in  quod,  and  missus  has  gone  out  to  pawn  the 
plate."  When  the  cook  went  out  that  day,  she  somehow 
had  by  mistake  placed  in  her  basket  a  dozen  of  table- 
knives  and  a  plated  egg-stand.  When  the  lady's-maid 
took  a  walk  in  the  course  of  the  afternoon,  she  found  she 
had  occasion  for  eight  cambric  pocket-handkerchiefs 
(marked  with  her  mistress's  cipher) ,  half-a-dozen  pair  of 
shoes,  gloves,  long  and  short,  some  silk  stockings,  and  a 
gold-headed  scent-bottle.  "  Both  the  new  cashmeres  is 
gone,"  said  she,  "  and  there's  nothing  left  in  INIrs.  Walk- 
er's trinket-box  but  a  paper  of  pins  and  an  old  coral 
bracelet."  As  for  the  page,  he  rushed  incontinently  to 
his  master's  dressing-room  and  examined  every  one  of 
the  pockets  of  his  clothes ;  made  a  parcel  of  some  of  them, 
and  opened  all  the  drawers  which  \Valker  had  not  locked 
before  his  departure.  He  only  found  three-half-pence 
and  a  bill-stamp,  and  about  forty-five  tradesmen's  ac- 
counts, neatly  labelled  and  tied  up  with  red  ta])e.  These 
three  worthies,  a  groom,  who  was  a  great  a(hnirer  of 


328  MEN'S  WIVES 

Trimmer  the  ladj^'s-maid,  and  a  policeman,  a  friend  of 
the  cook's,  sat  down  to  a  comfortable  dinner  at  the  usual 
hour,  and  it  was  agreed  among  them  all  that  Walker's 
ruin  was  certain.  The  cook  made  the  policeman  a  pres- 
ent of  a  china  punch-bowl  which  Mrs.  Walker  had  given 
her;  and  the  lady's-maid  gave  her  friend  the  "  Book  of 
Beauty  "  for  last  year,  and  the  third  volume  of  Byron's 
poems  from  the  drawing-room  table. 

"  I'm  dash'd  if  she  ain't  taken  the  little  French  clock, 
too,"  said  the  page,  and  so  indeed  Mrs.  Walker  had;  it 
slipped  in  the  basket  where  it  lay  enveloped  in  one  of  her 
shawls,  and  then  struck  madly  and  unnaturally  a  great 
number  of  times,  as  Morgiana  was  lifting  her  store  of 
treasures  out  of  the  hackney-coach.  The  coachman 
wagged  his  head  sadly  as  he  saw  her  walking  as  quick  as 
she  could  under  her  heavy  load,  and  disappearing  round 
the  corner  of  the  street  at  Avhich  Mr.  Balls'  celebrated 
jewellery  establishment  is  situated.  It  is  a  grand  shop, 
with  magnificent  silver  cups  and  salvers,  rare  gold- 
headed  canes,  flutes,  watches,  diamond  brooches,  and  a 
few  fine  specimens  of  the  old  masters  in  the  window,  and 
under  the  words — 

Balls,  Jeweller, 

you  read,  Money  Lent, 

in  the  very  smallest  type  on  the  door. 

The  interview  with  Mr.  Balls  need  not  be  described; 
but  it  must  have  been  a  satisfactory  one,  for  at  the  end  of 
half  an  hour  Morgiana  returned  and  bounded  into  the 
coach  with  sparkling  eyes,  and  told  the  driver  to  gallop 
to  Cursitor  Street;  which,  smiling,  he  promised  to  do, 
and  accordingly  set  off  in  that  direction  at  the  rate  of 


THE   RAVENSWING  329 

four  miles  an  hour.  "  I  thought  so,"  said  the  philosophic 
charioteer.  "  When  a  man's  in  quod,  a  woman  don't 
mind  her  silver  spoons;  "  and  he  was  so  delighted  with 
her  action,  that  he  forgot  to  grumble  when  she  came  to 
settle  accounts  with  him,  even  though  she  gave  him  only 
double  his  fare. 

"  Take  me  to  him,"  said  she  to  the  young  Hebrew  who 
opened  the  door. 

"To    whom?"    says    the    sarcastic    youth;    "there's 
twenty  hivis  here.    You're  precious  early." 

"  To  Captain  Walker,  young  man,"  replied  Morgiana 
haughtily;  whereupon  the  youth  opening  the  second 
door,  and  seeing  Mr.  Bendigo  in  a  flowered  dressing- 
gown  descending  the  stairs  exclaimed,  "  Papa,  here's  a 
lady  for  the  Captain."  "  I'm  come  to  free  him,"  said 
she,  trembling  and  holding  out  a  bundle  of  bank-notes. 
"  Here's  the  amount  of  your  claim,  sir— two  hundred 
and  twenty  guineas,  as  you  told  me  last  night."  The 
Jew  took  the  notes,  and  grinned  as  he  looked  at  her,  and 
grinned  double  as  he  looked  at  his  son,  and  begged  ^Irs. 
Walker  to  step  into  his  study  and  take  a  receipt.  When 
the  door  of  that  apartment  closed  upon  the  lady  and  his 
father,  Mr.  Bendigo  the  younger  fell  back  in  an  agony  of 
laughter,  which  it  is  impossible  to  describe  in  words,  and 
presently  ran  out  into  a  court  where  some  of  the  luckless 
inmates  of  the  house  were  already  taking  the  air,  and 
communicated  something  to  them  which  made  those  in- 
dividuals also  laugh  as  uproariously  as  he  had  previously 

done. 

Well,  after  joyfully  taking  the  receipt  from  Mr.  Ben- 
digo (how  her  cheeks  flushed  and  her  heart  fluttered  as 
she  dried  it  on  the  blotting-book!) ,  and  after  turning 
very  pale  again  on  hearing  that  the  Captain  luid  had  a 


330  MEN'S  WIVES 

very  bad  night;  "  And  well  he  might,  poor  dear! "  said 
she  (at  which  Mr.  Beiidigo,  having  no  person  to  grin  at, 
grinned  at  a  marble  bust  of  Mr.  Pitt,  which  ornamented 
his  side-board)  — Morgiana,  I  say,  these  preliminaries 
being  concluded,  was  conducted  to  her  husband's  apart- 
ment, and  once  more  flinging  her  arms  round  her  dear- 
est Howard's  neck,  told  liim,  with  one  of  the  sweet- 
est smiles  in  the  world,  to  make  haste  and  get  up  and 
come  home,  for  breakfast  was  waiting  and  the  carriage 
at  the  door. 

"  What  do  you  mean,  love?  "  said  the  Captain,  start- 
ing up  and  looking  exceedingly  surprised. 

"  I  mean  that  my  dearest  is  free;  that  the  odious  little 
creature  is  paid — at  least  the  horrid  bailiff  is." 

"  Have  you  been  to  Baroski?  "  said  Walker,  turning 
very  red. 

"  Howard!  "  said  his  wife,  quite  indignant. 

"  Did — did  your  mother  give  you  the  money?  "  asked 
the  Captain. 

"  No;  I  had  it  by  me,"  replies  ]Mrs.  Walker,  with  a 
very  knowing  look. 

Walker  was  more  surprised  than  ever.  "  Have  you 
any  more  money  by  you?  "  said  he. 

Mrs.  Walker  showed  him  her  purse  with  two  guineas; 
"  That  is  all,  love,"  she  said.  "  And  I  wish,"  continued 
she,  "  you  would  give  me  a  draft  to  pay  a  whole  list  of 
little  bills  that  have  somehow  all  come  in  within  the  last 
few  days." 

"  Well,  well,  you  shall  have  the  cheque,"  continued 
Mr.  Walker,  and  began  forthwith  to  make  his  toilet, 
which  completed,  he  rung  for  Mr.  Bendigo,  and  his  bill, 
and  intimated  his  wish  to  go  home  directly. 


THE   RAVEN  SWING  331 

The  honoured  bailiff  brought  the  bill,  but  with  regard 
to  his  being  free,  said  it  was  impossible. 

"  How  impossible?  "  said  Mrs.  Walker,  turning  very 
red  and  then  very  pale.    "  Did  I  not  pay  just  now?  " 

"  So  you  did,  and  you've  got  the  reshipt;  but  there's 
another  detainer  against  the  Captain  for  a  hundred  and 
fifty.  Eglantine  and  Mossrose,  of  Bond  Street;— per- 
fumery for  five  years,  you  know." 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  you  were  such  a  fool  as  to 
pay  without  asking  if  there  were  any  more  detainers?  " 
roared  Walker  to  his  wife. 

"  Yes  she  was  though,"  chuckled  Mr.  Bendigo;  "  but 
she'll  know  better  the  next  time:  and,  besides.  Captain, 
what's  a  hundred  and  fifty  pounds  to  you?  " 

Though  Walker  desired  nothing  so  much  in  the  world 
at  that  moment  as  the  liberty  to  knock  down  his  wife,  his 
sense  of  prudence  overcame  his  desire  for  justice:  if  that 
feeling  may  be  called  prudence  on  his  part,  which  con- 
sisted in  a  strong  wish  to  cheat  the  bailiff  into  the  idea 
that  he  (Walker)  was  an  exceedingly  respectable  and 
wealthy  man.  ^lany  worthy  persons  indulge  in  this 
fond  notion,  that  they  are  imposing  upon  the  world; 
strive  to  fancy,  for  instance,  that  their  bankers  consider 
them  men  of  property  because  they  keep  a  tolerable  bal- 
ance, pay  httle  tradesmen's  bills  with  ostentatious  punc- 
tuality, and  so  forth,  — but  the  world,  let  us  be  pretty 
sure,  is  as  wise  as  need  be,  and  guesses  our  real  condition 
with  a  marvellous  instinct,  or  learns  it  with  curious  skill. 
The  London  tradesman  is  one  of  the  keenest  judges  of 
human  nature  extant;  and  if  a  tradesman,  how  much 
more  a  bailiff?  In  reply  to  the  ironic  question,  "  What's 
a  hundred  and  fifty  pounds  to  you  ?  "  Walker,  collecting 


332  MEN'S  WIVES 

himself,  answers,  "It  is  an  infamous  imposition,  and  I 
owe  the  money  no  more  than  you  do ;  but,  nevertheless,  I 
shall  instruct  my  lawyers  to  pay  it  in  the  course  of  the 
morning:  under  protest,  of  course." 

"  Oh,  of  course,"  said  Mr.  Bendigo,  bowing  and  quit- 
ting the  room,  and  leaving  Mrs.  Walker  to  the  pleasure 
of  a  tete-a-tete  with  her  husband. 

And  now  being  alone  with  the  partner  of  his  bosom, 
the  worthy  gentleman  began  an  address  to  her  which  can- 
not be  put  down  on  paper  here ;  because  the  world  is  ex- 
ceedingly squeamish,  and  does  not  care  to  hear  the  whole 
truth  about  rascals,  and  because  the  fact  is  that  almost 
every  other  word  of  the  Captain's  speech  was  a  curse, 
such  as  would  shock  the  beloved  reader  were  it  put  in 
print. 

Fancy,  then,  in  lieu  of  the  conversation,  a  scoundrel 
disappointed  and  in  a  fury,  wreaking  his  brutal  revenge 
upon  an  amiable  woman,  who  sits  trembling  and  pale, 
and  wondering  at  this  sudden  exhibition  of  wrath. 
Fancy  how  he  clenches  his  fists  and  stands  over  her,  and 
stamps  and  screams  out  curses  with  a  livid  face,  grow- 
ing wilder  and  wilder  in  his  rage;  wrenching  her  hand 
when  she  wants  to  turn  away,  and  only  stopping  at  last 
when  she  has  fallen  oiF  the  chair  in  a  fainting  fit,  with  a 
heart-breaking  sob  that  made  the  Jew-boy  who  was  lis- 
tening at  the  kejT^-hole  turn  quite  pale  and  walk  away. 
Well,  it  is  best,  perhaps,  that  such  a  conversation  should 
not  be  told  at  length : — at  the  end  of  it,  when  Mr.  Walker 
had  his  wife  lifeless  on  the  floor,  he  seizes  a  water- jug 
and  poured  it  over  her;  which  operation  prettj"  soon 
brought  her  to  herself,  and  shaking  her  black  ringlets, 
she  looked  up  once  more  again  timidly  into  his  face,  and 
took  his  hand,  and  began  to  cry. 


THE   RAA^ENSWING  333 

He  spoke  now  in  a  somewhat  softer  voice,  and  let  her 
keep  paddhng  on  with  his  hand  as  before;  he  couldn't 
speak  very  fiercely  to  the  poor  girl  in  her  attitude  of  de- 
feat, and  tenderness,  and  supplication.  "  JNIorgiana," 
said  he,  "  your  extravagance  and  carelessness  have 
brought  me  to  ruin,  I'm  afraid.  If  you'd  chosen  to  have 
gone  to  Baroski,  a  word  from  you  would  have  made  him 
withdraw  the  writ,  and  my  property  wouldn't  have  been 
sacrificed,  as  it  has  now  been,  for  nothing.  It  mayn't  be 
yet  too  late,  however,  to  retrieve  ourselves.  This  bill  of 
Eglantine's  is  a  regular  conspiracy,  I  am  sure,  between 
Mossrose  and  Bendigo  here:  you  must  go  to  Eglantine 
— he's  an  old — an  old  flame  of  yours,  you  know." 

She  dropped  his  hand;  "  I  can't  go  to  Eglantine  after 
what  has  passed  between  us,"  she  said ;  but  Walker's  face 
instantly  began  to  wear  a  certain  look,  and  she  said  with  a 
shudder,  "  Well,  well,  dear,  I  will  go."  "  You  will  go  to 
Eglantine,  and  ask  him  to  take  a  bill  for  the  amount  of 
this  shameful  demand — at  any  date,  never  mind  what. 
JNIind,  however,  to  see  him  alone,  and  I'm  sure  if  you 
choose  you  can  settle  the  business.  Make  haste;  set  off 
directly,  and  come  back,  as  there  may  be  more  detain- 
ers in." 

Trembling,  and  in  a  great  flutter,  JNIorgiana  put  on 
her  bonnet  and  gloves,  and  went  towards  the  door.  "  It's 
a  fine  morning,"  said  Mr.  Walker,  looking  out:  "  a  walk 
will  do  you  good;  and — Morgiana — didn't  you  say  you 
had  a  couple  of  guineas  in  your  pocket?  " 

"  Here  it  is,"  said  she,  smiling  all  at  once,  and  holding 
up  her  face  to  be  kissed.  She  paid  the  two  guineas  for 
the  kiss.  Was  it  not  a  mean  act?  "  Is  it  possible  tliat 
people  can  love  where  they  do  not  respect?  "  says  INIiss 
Prim:  "  I  never  would."  Nobody  asked  you,  Miss  Prim: 


334  MEN'S  WIVES 

but  recollect  Morgiana  was  not  born  with  your  advan- 
tages of  education  and  breeding ;  and  was,  in  fact,  a  poor 
vulgar  creature,  who  loved  Mr.  Walker,  not  because  her 
mamma  told  her,  nor  because  he  was  an  exceedingly  eli- 
gible and  well-brought-up  young  man,  but  because  she 
could  not  help  it,  and  knew  no  better.  Nor  is  Mrs. 
Walker  set  up  as  a  model  of  virtue:  ah,  no!  when  I  want 
a  model  of  virtue  I  will  call  in  Baker  Street,  and  ask  for 
a  sitting  of  my  dear  (if  I  may  be  permitted  to  say  so) 
Miss  Prim. 

We  have  Mr.  Howard  Walker  safely  housed  in  Mr. 
Bendigo's  establishment  in  Cursitor  Street,  Chancery 
Lane ;  and  it  looks  like  mockery  and  want  of  feeling  to- 
wards  the  excellent  hero  of  this  story,  (or,  as  should 
rather  be  said,  towards  the  husband  of  the  heroine,)  to 
say  what  he  might  have  been  but  for  the  unlucky  little 
circumstance  of  Baroski's  passion  for  Morgiana. 

If  Baroski  had  not  fallen  in  love  with  Morgiana,  he 
would  not  have  given  her  two  hundred  guineas'  worth  of 
lessons ;  he  would  not  have  so  far  presumed  as  to  seize  her 
hand,  and  attempt  to  kiss  it;  if  he  had  not  attempted  to 
kiss  her,  she  would  not  have  boxed  his  ears ;  he  would  not 
have  taken  out  the  writ  against  Walker;  Walker  would 
have  been  free,  very  possibly  rich,  and  therefore  certainly 
respected:  he  always  said  that  a  month's  more  liberty 
would  have  set  him  beyond  the  reach  of  misfortune. 

The  assertion  is  very  likely  a  correct  one ;  for  Walker 
had  a  flashy,  enterprising  genius,  which  ends  in  wealth 
sometimes,  in  the  King's  Bench  not  seldom,  occasionalh^ 
alas,  in  Van  Diemen's  Land !  He  might  have  been  rich, 
could  he  have  kept  his  credit,  and  had  not  his  personal 
expenses  and  extravagances  pulled  him  down.  He  liad 
gallantly  availed  himself  of  his  wife's  fortune ;  nor  could 


THE   RAVEXSWING  335 

any  man  in  London,  as  he  proudly  said,  have  made  five 
hundred  pounds  go  so  far.    He  had,  as  we  have  seen,  fur- 
nished a  house,  sideboard,  and  cellar  with  it ;  he  had  a  car- 
riage, and  horses  in  his  stable,  and  with  the  remainder  he 
had  purchased  shares  in  four  companies— of  three  of 
which  he  was  founder  and  director,  had  conducted  in- 
numerable bargains  in  the  foreign  stocks,  had  lived  and 
entertained  sumptuously,  and  made  himself  a  very  con- 
siderable income.     He  had  set  up  The  Capitol  Loan 
and  Life  Assurance  Company,  had  discovered  the  Chim- 
borazo  gold  mines,  and  the  Society  for  Recovering  and 
Draining  the  Pontine  Marshes;  capital  ten  millions;  pa- 
tron His  Holiness  the  Pope.     It  certainly  was  stated 
in  an  evening  paper  that  His  Holiness  had  made  him  a 
Knight  of  the  Spur,  and  had  offered  to  him  the  rank  of 
Count ;  and  he  was  raising  a  loan  for  His  Highness  the 
Cacique  of  Panama,  who  has  sent  him  (by  way  of  divi- 
dend) the  grand  cordon  of  his  Highness's  order  of  the 
Castle  and  Falcon,  which  might  be  seen  any  day  at  his 
office  in  Bond  Street,  with  the  parchments  signed  and 
sealed  by  the  Grand  Master  and  Falcon  King-at-Arms 
of  his  Highness.     In  a  week  more,  Walker  would  have 
raised  a  hundred  thousand  pounds  on  his   Highness's 
twenty  per  cent,  loan;  he  would  have  had  fifteen  thou- 
sand   pounds   commission    for   himself;    his    companies 
would  have  risen  to  par,   he   would   have   realised  his 
shares;  he  would  have  gone  into  Parliament;  he  would 
have  been  made  a  baronet,  who  knows?  a  peer,  probably! 
"And  I  appeal  to  you,  sir,"  Walker  would  say  to  his 
friends,  "  could  any  man  have  shown  better  proof  of  his 
affection  for  his  wife,  than  by  laying  out  her  little  mis- 
erable money  as  T  did  ?    They  call  me  lieartless,  sir,  be- 
cause I  didn't  succeed;  sir,  my  life  has  been  a  series  of 


336  MEN'S  WIVES 

sacrifices  for  that  woman,  such  as  no  man  ever  performed 
before." 

A  proof  of  Walker's  dexterity  and  capabihty  for  busi- 
ness may  be  seen  in  the  fact  that  he  had  actually  appeased 
and  reconciled  one  of  his  bitterest  enemies— our  honest 
friend  Eglantine.  After  Walker's  marriage,  Eglan- 
tine, who  had  now  no  mercantile  dealings  with  his  former 
agent,  became  so  enraged  with  him,  that,  as  the  only 
means  of  revenge  in  his  power,  he  sent  him  in  his  bill  for 
goods  supplied  to  the  amount  of  one  hundred  and  fifty 
guineas,  and  sued  him  for  the  amount.  But  Walker 
stepped  boldly  over  to  his  enemy,  and  in  the  course  of 
half-an-hour  they  were  friends. 

Eglantine  promised  to  forego  his  claim ;  and  accepted 
in  lieu  of  it  three  lOOZ.  shares  of  the  ex-Panama  stock, 
bearing  25  per  cent.,  payable  half-yearly  at  the  house  of 
Hocus  Brothers,  St.  Swithin's  Lane;  three  100/.  shares, 
and  the  second  class  of  the  order  of  the  Castle  and  Fal- 
con, with  the  riband  and  badge.  "  In  four  years.  Eglan- 
tine, my  boy,  I  hope  to  get  you  the  Grand  Cordon  of  the 
order,"  said  Walker:  "  I  hope  to  see  you  a  Knight 
Grand  Cross,  with  a  grant  of  a  hundred  thousand  acres 
reclaimed  from  the  Isthmus." 

To  do  my  poor  Eglantine  justice,  he  did  not  care  for 
the  hundred  thousand  acres— it  was  the  star  that  de- 
lighted him: — ah!  how  his  fat  chest  heaved  with  delight 
as  he  sewed  on  the  cross  and  riband  to  his  dress  coat,  and 
lighted  up  four  wax  candles  and  looked  at  himself  in  the 
glass.  He  was  known  to  wear  a  great-coat  after  that — 
it  was  that  he  might  wear  the  cross  under  it.  That  year 
he  went  on  a  trip  to  Boulogne.  He  was  dreadfully  ill 
during  the  voyage,  but  as  the  vessel  entered  the  port  he 
was  seen  to  emerge  from  the  cabin,  his  coat  open,  the 


THE   RAVEXSWING  337 

star  blazing  on  his  chest;  the  soldiers  saluted  him  as  he 
walked  the  streets,  he  was  called  jNIonsieur  le  Chevalier, 
and  when  he  went  home  he  entered  into  negotiations  with 
Walker,  to  purchase  a  commission  in  his  Highness' s  ser- 
vice. Walker  said  he  would  get  him  the  nominal  rank 
of  Captain,  the  fees  at  the  Panama  War  Office  were  five- 
and-twenty  pounds,  which  sum  honest  Eglantine  pro- 
duced, and  had  his  commission,  and  a  pack  of  visiting 
cards  printed  as  Captain  Archibald  Eglantine,  K.C.F. 
iMany  a  time  he  looked  at  them  as  they  lay  in  his  desk, 
and  he  kept  the  cross  in  his  dressing-table,  and  wore  it  as 
he  shaved  every  morning. 

His  Highness  the  Cacique,  it  is  well  known,  came  to 
England,  and  had  lodgings  in  Regent  Street,  where  he 
held  a  levee,  at  which  Eglantine  appeared  in  the  Panama 
uniform,  and  was  most  graciously  received  by  his  Sover- 
eign. His  Highness  proposed  to  make  Captain  Eglan- 
tine his  aide-de-camp  with  the  rank  of  Colonel,  but  the 
Captain's  exchequer  was  rather  low  at  that  moment,  and 
the  fees  at  the  "  War-Office  "  were  peremptory.  INIean- 
while  his  Highness  left  Regent  Street,  was  said  by  some 
to  have  returned  to  Panama,  by  others  to  be  in  his  native 
city  of  Cork,  by  others  to  be  leading  a  life  of  retirement 
in  the  Xew  Cut,  Lambeth ;  at  any  rate  was  not  visible  for 
some  time,  so  that  Captain  Eglantine's  advancement  did 
not  take  place.  Eglantine  was  somehow  ashamed  to 
mention  his  military  and  chivalric  rank  to  INIr.  INIossrose, 
when  that  gentleman  came  into  partnership  with  him; 
and  left  these  facts  secret,  until  they  were  detected  by  a 
very  painful  circumstance.  On  the  very  day  when 
Walker  was  arrested  at  the  suit  of  Benjamin  Baroski, 
there  appeared  in  tlic  newspapers  an  account  of  the  im- 


pv 


risonment  of  his  Ilioliness  the  Prince  of  Panama,  for  a 


'o 


338  MEN'S  WIVES 

bill  owing  to  a  licensed  victualler  in  RatclifF  Highway. 
The  magistrate  to  whom  the  victualler  subsequently 
came  to  complain,  passed  many  pleasantries  on  the  occa- 
sion. He  asked  whether  his  Highness  did  not  drink  like 
a  swan  with  two  necks;  whether  he  had  brought  any 
Belles  savages  with  him  from  Panama,  and  so  forth ;  and 
the  whole  court,  said  the  report,  "  was  convulsed  with 
laughter,  when  Boniface  produced  a  green  and  yellow 
riband  with  a  large  star  of  the  order  of  the  Castle  and 
Falcon,  with  which  his  Highness  proposed  to  gratify 
him,  in  lieu  of  paying  his  little  bill." 

It  was  as  he  was  reading  the  above  document  with  a 
bleeding  heart  that  Mr.  Mossrose  came  in  from  his  daily 
walk  to  the  City.  "  Veil,  Eglantine,"  says  he,  "  have 
you  heard  the  newsh?  " 

"  About  his  Highness?  " 

"About  your  friend  Valker;  he's  arrested  for  two 
hundred  poundsh !  " 

Eglantine  at  this  could  contain  no  more;  but  told  his 
story  of  how  he  had  been  induced  to  accept  300/.  of  Pa- 
nama stock  for  his  account  against  Walker,  and  cursed 
his  stars  for  his  folly. 

"  Veil,  you've  only  to  bring  in  another  bill,"  said  the 
younger  perfumer;  "  swear  he  owes  you  a  hundred  and 
fifty  pounds,  and  we'll  have  a  writ  out  against  him  this 
afternoon." 

And  so  a  second  writ  was  taken  out  against  Captain 
Walker. 

"  You'll  have  his  wife  here  very  likely  in  a  day  or  two," 
said  Mr.  INIossrose  to  his  partner;  "  them  chaps  always 
sends  their  wives,  and  I  hope  you  know  how  to  deal  with 
her." 

"  I  don't  value  her  a  fig's  hend,"  said  Eglantine.    "  I'll 


THE   RAVENSWING  339 

treat  her  like  the  dust  of  the  hearth.  After  that  woman's 
conduct  to  me,  I  should  like  to  see  her  have  the  haudacity 
to  come  here;  and  if  she  does,  you'll  see  how  I'll  serve 
her." 

The  worthy  perfumer  was,  in  fact,  resolved  to  be  ex- 
ceedingly hard-hearted  in  his  behaviour  towards  his  old 
love,  and  acted  over  at  night  in  bed  the  scene  which  was 
to  occur  when  the  meeting  should  take  place.  Oh, 
thought  he,  but  it  will  be  a  grand  thing  to  see  the  proud 
Morgiana  on  her  knees  to  me ;  and  me  a  pointing  to  the 
door;  and  saying,  "Madam,  you've  steeled  this  'eart 
against  you,  you  have;— bury  the  recollection  of  old 
times,  of  those  old  times  when  I  thought  my  'eart  would 
have  broke,  but  it  didn't— no,  'earts  are  made  of  sterner 
stuff.  I  didn't  die  as  I  thought  I  should ;  I  stood  it,  and 
live  to  see  the  woman  I  despised  at  my  feet— ha,  ha,  at 
m}^  feet! " 

In  the  midst  of  these  thoughts  Mr.  Eglantine  fell 
asleep;  but  it  was  evident  that  the  idea  of  seeing  Mor- 
giana once  more,  agitated  him  considerabl}^  else  why 
should  he  have  been  at  the  pains  of  preparing  so  much 
heroism?  Plis  sleep  w^as  exceedingly  fitful  and  troubled; 
he  saw  JSIorgiana  in  a  hundred  shapes ;  he  dreamed  that 
he  was  dressing  her  hair ;  that  he  was  riding  with  her  to 
Richmond;  that  the  horse  turned  into  a  dragon,  and 
jSIorgiana  into  Woolsey,  who  took  him  by  the  throat  and 
choked  him,  while  the  dragon  played  the  key-bugle. 
And  in  the  morning  when  Mossrose  was  gone  to  his  busi- 
ness in  the  City,  and  he  sat  reading  the  Morning  Post  in 
his  study,  ah!  wliat  a  tlinni])  liis  lieart  gave  as  tlie  lady  of 
his  dreams  actually  stood  before  him! 

Many  a  lady  who  purcliased  bruslies  at  Eglantine's 
shop,  would  have  given  ten  guineas  for  such  a  colour  as 


340  MEN'S  WIVES 

his  when  he  saw  her.  His  heart  beat  violently,  he  was  al- 
most choking  in  his  stays :  he  had  been  prepared  for  the 
visit,  but  his  courage  failed  him  now  it  had  come.  They 
were  both  silent  for  some  minutes. 

"  You  know  what  I  am  come  for,"  at  last  said  Mor- 
giana  from  under  her  veil,  but  she  put  it  aside  as  she 
spoke. 

"  I — that  is — yes> — it's  a  painful  affair,  mem,"  he  said, 
giving  one  look  at  her  pale  face,  and  then  turning  away 
in  a  flurry.  "  I  beg  to  refer  you  to  Blunt,  Hone,  and 
Sharpus,  my  lawyers,  mem,"  he  added,  collecting  him- 
self. 

"  I  didn't  expect  this  from  you,  Mr.  Eglantine,"  said 
the  lady,  and  began  to  sob. 

"  And  after  what's  'appened,  I  didn't  expect  a  visit 
from  you,  mem.  I  thought  ^Irs.  Capting  Walker  was 
too  great  a  dame  to  visit  poor  Harchibald  Eglantine 
(though  some  of  the  first  men  in  the  country  do  visit 
him).  Is  there  anything  in  which  I  can  oblige  you, 
memf 

"O  heavens!"  cried  the  poor  woman;  "have  I  no 
friend  left?  I  never  thought  that  you,  too,  would  have 
deserted  me,  Mr.  Archibald." 

The  "Archibald,"  pronounced  in  the  old  way,  had  evi- 
dently an  effect  on  the  perfumer ;  he  winced  and  looked 
at  her  very  eagerly  for  a  moment.  "  What  can  I  do  for 
you,  mem?  "  at  last  said  he. 

"  What  is  this  bill  against  Mr.  Walker,  for  which  he 
is  now  in  prison  ?  " 

"Perfumery  supplied  for  five  years;  that  man  used 
more  'air-brushes  than  any  duke  in  the  land,  and  as  for 
Eau  de  Cologne  he  must  have  bathed  himself  in  it.  He 
bordered  me  about  like  a  lord.     He  never  paid  me  one 


THE   RAVENSWING  341 

shilling,— he  stabbed  me  in  my  most  vital  part— but,  ah! 
ah!  never  mind  that:  and  I  said  I  would  be  revenged,  and 

am. 

The  perfumer  was  quite  in  a  rage  again  by  this  time, 
and  wiped  his  fat  face  with  his  pocket-handkerchief,  and 
glared  upon  ISIrs.  Walker  with  a  most  determined  air. 

"  Revenged  on  whom?  Archibald— ^Mr.  Eglantine, 
revenged  on  me— on  a  poor  woman  whom  you  made  mis- 
erable !    You  would  not  have  done  so  once." 

"  Ha!  and  a  precious  way  you  treated  me  once"  said 
Eglantine:  "  don't  talk  to  me,  mem,  of  once.  Bury  the 
recollection  of  once  for  hever !  I  thought  my  'eart  would 
have  broke  once,  but  no ;  'earts  are  made  of  sterner  stuff. 
I  didn't  die  as  I  thought  I  should;  I  stood  it— and  I  live 
to  see  the  woman  who  despised  me  at  my  feet." 

"  Oh,  Archibald!  "  was  all  the  lady  could  say,  and  she 
fell  to  sobbing  again :  it  was  perhaps  her  best  argument 
with  the  perfumer. 

"Oh,  Harchibald,  indeed!"  continued  he,  beginning 
to  swelU  "  don't  call  me  Harchibald,  Morgiana.  Think 
what  a  position  you  might  have  held,  if  you'd  chose: 
when,  when— you  might  have  called  me  Harchibald. 
Now  it's  no  use,"  added  he,  with  harroAving  pathos;  "  but, 
though  I've  been  wronged,  I  can't  bear  to  see  women  in 
tears — tell  me  what  I  can  do?  " 

"  Dear,  good  Mr.  Eglantine,  send  to  your  lawyers  and 
stop  this  horrid  prosecution— take  ^Ir.  Walker's  ac- 
knowledgment for  the  debt.  If  he  is  free,  he  is  sure  to 
have  a  very  large  sum  of  money  in  a  few  days,  and  will 
pay  you  all.  Do  not  ruin  him— do  not  ruin  me  by  per- 
sisting now.    Be  the  old  kind  Eglantine  you  were." 

Eglantine  took  a  hand,  which  Morgiana  did  not  re- 
fuse; he  thought  about  old  times.     He  had  known  her 


342  MEN'S  WIVES 

since  childhood  almost;  as  a  girl  he  dandled  her  on  his 
knee  at  the  "  Kidneys;  "  as  a  woman  he  had  adored  her, 
— his  heart  was  melted. 

"  He  did  pay  me  in  a  sort  of  way,"  reasoned  the  per- 
fumer with  himself—"  these  bonds,  though  they  are  not 
worth  much,  I  took  'em  for  better  or  for  worse,  and  I 
can't  bear  to  see  her  crying,  and  to  trample  on  a  woman 
in  distress.  JNIorgiana,"  he  added,  in  a  loud  cheerful 
voice,  "  cheer  up;  I'll  give  you  a  release  for  your  hus- 
band: I  will  be  the  old  kind  Eglantine  I  was." 

"Be  the  old  kind  jackass  you  vash!"  here  roared  a 
voice  that  made  Mr.  Eglantine  start.  "  Vy,  vat  an  old 
fat  fool  you  are.  Eglantine,  to  give  up  our  just  debts  be- 
cause a  voman  comes  snivelling  and  crying  to  you— and 
such  a  voman,  too!  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Mossrose,  for  his  was 
the  voice. 

"  Such  a  woman,  sir?  "  cried  the  senior  partner. 

"  Yes;  such  a  woman— vy  didn't  she  jilt  you  herself? 
—hasn't  she  been  trying  the  same  game  with  Baroski; 
and  are  you  so  green  as  to  give  up  a  hundred  and  fifty 
pounds  because  she  takes  a  fancy  to  come  vimpering 
here?  I  won't,  I  can  tell  you.  The  money's  as  much 
mine  as  it  is  yours,  and  I'll  have  it,  or  keep  Walker's 
body,  that's  what  I  will." 

At  the  presence  of  his  partner,  the  timid  good  genius 
of  Eglantine,  which  had  prompted  him  to  mercy  and 
kindness,  at  once  outspread  its  frightened  wings  and  flew 
away. 

"  You  see  how  it  is,  Mrs.  W.,"  said  he,  looking  down; 
"  it's  an  affair  of  business— in  all  these  here  aff'airs  of 
business  Mr.  Mossrose  is  the  managing  man;  ain't  you, 
Mr.  Mossrose? " 

"  A  pretty  business  it  would  be  if  I  wasn't,"  replied 


THE   RAVEXSWIXG  343 

Mossrose,  doggedly.  "  Come,  ma'am,"  says  he,  "  I'll 
tell  you  vat  I  do:  I  take  fifty  per  shent;  not  a  far- 
thing less  —  give  me  that,  and  out  your  husband  goes." 

"  Oh,  sir,  Howard  will  pay  you  in  a  week." 

"  Veil,  den  let  him  stop  at  my  uncle  Bendigo's  for  a 
week,  and  come  out  den — he's  very  comfortable  there," 
said  Shylock  with  a  grin.  "  Hadn't  you  better  go  to  the 
shop,  Mr.  Eglantine,"  continued  he,  "  and  look  after 
your  business  ?  Mrs.  Walker  can't  want  you  to  listen  to 
her  all  day." 

Eglantine  w-as  glad  of  the  excuse,  and  slunk  out  of 
the  studio ;  not  into  the  shop  but  into  his  parlour ;  where 
he  drank  off  a  great  glass  of  Maraschino,  and  sat  blush- 
ing and  exceedingly  agitated,  until  Mossrose  came  to  tell 
him  that  Mrs.  W.  was  gone,  and  wouldn't  trouble  him 
any  more.  But  although  he  drank  several  more  glasses 
of  Maraschino,  and  went  to  the  play  that  night,  and  to 
the  cider-cellars  afterwards,  neither  the  liquor,  nor  the 
play,  nor  the  delightful  comic  songs  at  the  cellars,  could 
drive  Mrs.  Walker  out  of  his  head,  and  the  memory  of 
old  times,  and  the  image  of  her  pale  weeping  face. 

Morgiana  tottered  out  of  the  shop,  scarcely  heeding 
the  voice  of  Mr.  Mossrose,  who  said,  "I'll  take 
forty  per  shent  "  (and  went  back  to  his  duty  cursing 
himself  for  a  soft-hearted  fool  for  giving  up  so  much  of 
his  rights  to  a  puling  woman).  Morgiana,  I  say,  tot- 
tered out  of  the  shop,  and  went  up  Conduit  Street,  weep- 
ing, weeping  with  all  her  eyes.  She  was  quite  faint,  for 
she  had  taken  nothing  that  morning  but  the  glass  of 
water  which  the  ])astry-cook  in  the  Strand  had  given  her, 
and  was  forced  to  take  hold  of  the  railings  of  a  house 
for  support,  just  as  a  little  gentleman  with  a  yellow 
handkerchief  under  his  arm  was  issuing  from  the  door. 


344  MEN'S  WIVES 

"  Good  heavens,  Mrs.  Walker!  "  said  the  gentleman. 
It  was  no  other  than  ]Mr.  Woolsey,  who  was  going  forth 
to  try  a  body-coat  for  a  customer;  "  are  you  ill? — what's 
the  matter?  for  God's  sake  come  in!  "  and  he  took  her 
arm  under  his,  and  led  her  into  his  back-parlour,  and 
seated  her,  and  had  some  wine  and  water  before  her  in 
one  minute,  before  she  had  said  one  single  word  regard- 
ing herself. 

As  soon  as  she  was  somewhat  recovered,  and  with  the 
interruption  of  a  thousand  sobs,  the  poor  thing  told  as 
well  as  she  could  her  little  story.  ]SIr.  Eglantine  had 
arrested  Mr.  Walker:  she  had  been  trying  to  gain  time 
for  him;  Eglantine  had  refused. 

"  The  hard-hearted,  cowardly  brute  to  refuse  her  any- 
thing! "  said  loyal  Mr.  Woolsey.  "  My  dear,"  says  he, 
"  I've  no  reason  to  love  your  husband,  and  I  know  too 
much  about  him  to  respect  him;  but  I  love  and  respect 
you,  and  will  spend  my  last  shilling  to  serve  you."  At 
which  INIorgiana  could  only  take  his  hand  and  cry  a 
great  deal  more  than  ever.  She  said  JNIr.  Walker  would 
have  a  great  deal  of  money  in  a  week,  that  he  was  the 
best  of  husbands,  and  she  was  sure  Mr.  Woolsey  would 
think  better  of  him  when  he  knew  him;  that  ]Mr.  Eg- 
lantine's bill  was  one  hundred  and  fifty  pounds,  but  that 
]Mr.  Mossrose  would  take  forty  per  cent,  if  Mr.  Woolsey 
could  say  how  much  that  was. 

"  I'll  pay  a  thousand  pound  to  do  you  good,"  said  Mr. 
Woolsey,  bouncing  up ;  "  stay  here  for  ten  minutes,  my 
dear,  until  my  return,  and  all  shall  be  right,  as  you  will 
see."  He  was  back  in  ten  minutes,  and  had  called  a  cab 
from  the  stand  opposite  (all  the  coachmen  there  had 
seen  and  commented  on  IMrs.  Walker's  woe-begone 
looks) ,  and  they  were  off  for  Cursitor  Street  in  a  mo- 


THE   RAVENSWING  345 

ment.  "  They'll  settle  the  whole  debt  for  twenty 
pounds,"  said  he,  and  showed  an  order  to  that  effect 
from  ]\Ir.  Mossrose  to  JNIr.  Bendigo,  empowering  the 
latter  to  release  Walker  on  receiving  Mr.  Woolsey's  ac- 
knowledgment for  the  above  sum. 

****** 

"  There's  no  use  paying  it,"  said  ^Ir.  Walker,  dog- 
gedly, "  it  would  only  be  robbing  you,  ]Mr.  Woolsey— 
seven  more  detainers  have  come  in  while  my  wife  has 
been  away.  I  must  go  through  the  court  now;  but,"  he 
added  in  a  whisper  to  the  tailor,  "  my  good  sir,  my  debts 
of  honour  are  sacred,  and  if  you  will  have  the  goodness 
to  lend  me  the  twenty  pounds,  I  pledge  you  my  word  as 
a  gentleman  to  return  it  when  I  come  out  of  quod." 

It  is  probable  that  INIr.  AVoolsey  declined  this ;  for,  as 
soon  as  he  was  gone.  Walker,  in  a  tremendous  fury,  be- 
gan cursing  his  wife  for  dawdling  three  hours  on  the 
road.  "  Why  the  deuce,  ma'am,  didn't  you  take  a  cab?  " 
roared  he,  when  he  heard  she  had  walked  to  Bond  Street. 
"  Those  writs  have  only  been  in  half  an  hour,  and  I 
might  have  been  off  but  for  you." 

"Oh,  HoAvard,"  said  she,  "  didn't  you  take — didn't  I 
give  you  my — my  last  shilling?  "  and  fell  back  and  wept 
again  more  bitterly  than  ever. 

"  Well,  love,"  said  her  amiable  husband,  turning 
rather  red,  "  never  mind,  it  wasn't  your  fault.  It  is  but 
going  through  the  court.    It  is  no  great  odds.    I  forgive 

you." 


346  MEN'S  WIVES 


CHAPTER    VI 

IN    WHICH    MR.     WALKER    STILL    REMAINS    IN    DIFFICULTIES,    BUT 
SHOWS     GREAT     RESIGNATION     UNDER    HIS     MISFORTUNES 

THE  exemplary  Walker,  seeing  that  escape  from 
his  enemies  was  hopeless,  and  that  it  was  his  dut}' 
as  a  man  to  turn  on  them  and  face  them,  now  determined 
to  quit  the  splendid  though  narrow  lodgings  which  Mr. 
Bendigo  had  provided  for  him,  and  undergo  the  martyr- 
dom of  the  Fleet.  Accordingly,  in  company  with  that 
gentleman,  he  came  over  to  her  INIajesty's  prison,  and 
gave  himself  into  the  custody  of  the  officers  there;  and 
did  not  apply  for  the  accommodation  of  the  rules  (by 
which  in  those  days  the  captivity  of  some  debtors  was 
considerably  lightened) ,  because  he  knew  perfectly  well 
that  there  was  no  person  in  the  wide  world  who  would 
give  a  security  for  the  heavy  sums  for  which  Walker 
was  answerable.  What  these  sums  were  is  no  matter, 
and  on  this  head  we  do  not  think  it  at  all  necessary  to 
satisfy  the  curiosity  of  the  reader.  He  may  have  owed 
hundreds — thousands,  his  creditors  only  can  tell,  he  paid 
the  dividend  which  has  been  formerly  mentioned,  and 
showed  thereby  his  desire  to  satisfy  all  claims  upon  him 
to  the  uttermost  farthing. 

As  for  the  little  house  in  Connaught  Square,  when, 
after  quitting  her  husband,  INIorgiana  drove  back 
thither,  the  door  was  opened  by  the  page,  who  instantly 
thanked  her  to  pay  his  wages ;  and  in  the  drawing-room, 
on  a  yellow  satin  sofa,  sat  a  seedy  man  (with  a  pot  of 
porter  beside  him  placed  on  an  album  for  fear  of  stain- 
ing the  rosewood  table) ,  and  the  seedy  man  signified  that 


THE   RAVENSWING  347 

he  had  taken  possession  of  the  furniture  in  execution  for 
a  judgment  debt.  Another  seedy  man  was  in  the  dining- 
room,  reading  a  newspaper  and  drinking  gin;  he  in- 
formed jNIrs.  Walker  that  lie  was  the  representative  of 
another  judgment  debt  and  of  another  execution:  — 
"  There's  another  on  'em  in  the  kitchen,"  said  the  page, 
"  taking  an  inwentory  of  the  furniture;  and  he  swears 
he'll  have  you  took  up  for  swindling,  for  pawning  the 
plate." 

"  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Woolsey,  for  that  worthy  man  had 
conducted  JNIorgiana  home—"  sir,"  said  he,  shaking  his 
stick  at  the  young  page,  "  if  you  give  any  more  of  your 
impudence  I'll  beat  every  button  off  your  jacket:  "  and 
as  there  were  some  four  hundred  of  these  ornaments,  the 
page  was  silent.  It  was  a  great  mercj^  for  INIorgiana 
that  the  honest  and  faithful  tailor  had  accompanied  her. 
The  good  fellow  had  waited  very  patiently  for  her  for 
an  hour  in  the  parlour  or  coffee-room  of  the  lock-up 
house,  knowing  full  well  that  she  would  want  a  pro- 
tector on  her  way  homewards;  and  his  kindness  will  be 
more  appreciated  when  it  is  stated  that,  during  the  time 
of  his  delay  in  the  coffee-room,  he  had  been  subject  to 
the  entreaties,  nay,  to  the  insults  of  Cornet  Fipkin  of 
the  Blues,  who  was  in  prison  at  the  suit  of  Linsey,  Wool- 
sey, and  Co.,  and  who  happened  to  be  taking  his  break- 
fast in  the  ajjartment  when  his  obdurate  creditor  entered 
it.  The  cornet  (a  hero  of  eighteen,  who  stood  at  least 
five  feet  three  in  his  boots,  and  owed  fifteen  thousand 
pounds)  was  so  enraged  at  the  obduracy  of  his  creditor 
that  he  said  he  would  have  thrown  him  out  of  tlie  window 
but  for  the  bars  which  guarded  it;  and  entertained  seri- 
ous thoughts  of  knocking  the  tailor's  head  off,  but  that 
the  latter,  putting  his  right  leg  forward  and  his  fists  in 


348  MEN'S  WIVES 

a  proper  attitude,  told  the  young  officer  to  "come  on;  " 
on  which  the  cornet  cursed  the  tailor  for  a  "  snob,"  and 
went  back  to  his  breakfast. 

The  execution  people  having  taken  charge  of  Mr. 
Walker's  house,  Mrs.  Walker  was  driven  to  take  refuge 
with  her  mamma  near  "  Sadler's  Wells,"  and  the  Cap- 
tain remained  comfortably  lodged  in  the  Fleet.  He  had 
some  ready  money,  and  with  it  managed  to  make  his  ex- 
istence exceedingly  comfortable.  He  lived  with  the  best 
society  of  the  place,  consisting  of  several  distinguished 
young  noblemen  and  gentlemen.  He  spent  the  morning 
playing  at  fives  and  smoking  cigars;  the  evening  smok- 
ing cigars  and  dining  comfortably.  Cards  came  after 
dinner;  and,  as  the  Captain  was  an  experienced  player, 
and  near  a  score  of  years  older  than  most  of  his  friends, 
he  was  generally  pretty  successful:  indeed  if  he  had  re- 
ceived all  the  money  that  was  owed  to  him,  he  might 
have  come  out  of  prison  and  paid  his  creditors  twenty 
shillings  in  the  pound — that  is,  if  he  had  been  minded  to 
do  so.  But  there  is  no  use  in  examining  into  that  point 
too  closely,  for  the  fact  is,  young  Fipkin  only  paid  him 
forty  pounds  out  of  seven  hundred,  for  which  he  gave 
him  I.  O.  U.'s;  Algernon  Deuceace  not  only  did  not  pay 
him  three  hundred  and  twenty  which  he  lost  at  blind 
hookey,  but  actually  borrowed  seven  and  sixpence  in 
money  from  Walker,  which  has  never  been  repaid  to 
this  day;  and  Lord  Doublequits  actually  lost  nineteen 
thousand  pounds  to  him  at  heads  and  tails,  which  he 
never  paid,  pleading  drunkenness  and  his  minority.  The 
reader  may  recollect  a  paragraph  which  went  the  round 
of  the  papers  entitled,  "Affair  of  Honour  in  the  Fleet 
PmoTi.— Yesterday  morning  (behind  the  pump  in  the 
second  court)    Lord  D-bl-qu-ts  and   Captain  H-w-rd 


THE   RAVENSWIXG  349 

W-lk-r  (a  near  relative,  we  understand,  of  His  Grace 
the  Duke  of  N-rf-lk)  had  a  hostile  meeting  and  ex- 
changed two  shots.  These  two  young  sprigs  of  nobility 
were  attended  to  the  ground  by  ^lajor  Flush,  who,  by 
the  way,  is  flush  no  longer,  and  Captain  Pam,  late  of 

the Dragoons.    Play  is  said  to  have  been  the  cause 

of  the  quarrel,  and  the  gallant  Captain  is  reported  to 
have  handled  the  noble  lord's  nose  rather  roughly  at  one 
stage  of  the  transactions."  When  Morgiana  at  "  Sad- 
ler's Wells"  heard  these  news,  she  was  ready  to  faint 
with  terror;  and  rushed  to  the  Fleet  Prison,  and  em- 
braced her  lord  and  master  with  her  usual  expansion 
and  fits  of  tears :  very  much  to  that  gentleman's  annoy- 
ance, who  happened  to  be  in  company  with  Pam  and 
Flush  at  the  time,  and  did  not  care  that  his  handsome 
wife  should  be  seen  too  much  in  the  dubious  precincts  of 
the  Fleet.  He  had  at  least  so  much  shame  about  him, 
and  had  always  rejected  her  entreaties  to  be  allowed  to 
inhabit  the  prison  with  him. 

"  It  is  enough,"  would  he  say,  casting  his  eyes  heaven- 
ward, and  with  a  most  lugubrious  countenance—"  it  is 
enough,  Morgiana,  that  I  should  suffer,  even  though 
your  thoughtlessness  has  been  the  cause  of  my  ruin.  But 
enough  of  that!  I  will  not  rebuke  you  for  faults  for 
which  I  know  you  are  now  repentant ;  and  I  never  could 
bear  to  see  you  in  the  midst  of  the  miseries  of  this  horrible 
place.  Remain  at  home  with  your  mother,  and  let  me 
drag  on  the  weary  days  here  alone.  If  you  can  get  me 
any  more  of  that  pale  sherry,  my  love,  do.  I  require 
something  to  cheer  me  in  solitude,  and  have  found  my 
chest  very  much  relieved  by  that  wine.  Put  more  pepper 
and  eggs,  my  dear,  into  the  next  veal-pie  you  make  me. 
I  can't  eat  the  horrible  messes  in  the  coffee-room  here." 


350  MEN'S  WIVES 

It  was  Walker's  wish,  I  can't  tell  why,  except  that  it 
is  the  wish  of  a  great  number  of  other  persons  in  this 
strange  world,  to  make  his  wife  believe  that  he  was 
wretched  in  mind  and  ill  in  health;  and  all  assertions  to 
this  effect  the  simple  creature  received  with  numberless 
tears  of  credulity:  she  would  go  home  to  Mrs.  Crump, 
and  say  how  her  darling  Howard  was  pining  away,  how 
he  was  ruined  for  her,  and  with  what  angelic  sweetness 
he  bore  his  captivity.  The  fact  is,  he  bore  it  with  so 
much  resignation  that  no  other  person  in  the  world  could 
see  that  he  was  unhappy.  His  life  was  undisturbed  by 
duns;  his  day  was  his  own  from  morning  till  night;  his 
diet  was  good,  his  acquaintances  jovial,  his  purse  toler- 
ably well  supplied,  and  he  had  not  one  single  care  to 
annoy  him. 

Mrs.  Crump  and  Woolsey,  perhaps,  received  Mor- 
giana's  account  of  her  husband's  miseries  with  some  in- 
credulit}^  The  latter  was  now  a  daily  visitor  to  "  Sad- 
ler's Wells."  His  love  for  Morgiana  had  become  a 
warm,  fatherly,  generous  regard  for  her;  it  was  out  of 
the  honest  fellow's  cellar  that  the  wine  used  to  come 
which  did  so  much  good  to  Mr.  Walker's  chest;  and  he 
tried  a  thousand  ways  to  make  Morgiana  happy. 

A  very  happy  day,  indeed,  it  was  when,  returning 
from  her  visit  to  the  Fleet,  she  found  in  her  mother's 
sitting-room  her  dear  grand  rosewood  piano,  and  every 
one  of  her  music-books,  which  the  kind-hearted  tailor 
had  purchased  at  the  sale  of  Walker's  effects.  And  I 
am  not  ashamed  to  say  that  Morgiana  herself  M^as  so 
charmed,  that  when,  as  usual,  Mr.  Woolsey  came  to 
drink  tea  in  the  evening,  she  actually  gave  him  a  kiss; 
which  frightened  Mr.  Woolsey,  and  made  him  blush 
exceedingly.    She  sat  down,  and  played  him  that  even- 


THE   RAVENSWING  351 

ing  ever}^  one  of  the  songs  which  he  hked — the  old  songs 
—none  of  your  Itahan  stuif .  Podmore,  the  old  music- 
master,  was  there  too,  and  was  dehghted  and  astonished  at 
the  progress  in  singing  which  jNIorgiana  had  made;  and 
when  the  httle  party  separated,  he  took  Mv.  Woolsey  by 
the  hand,  and  said,  "  Give  me  leave  to  tell  you,  sir,  that 
you're  a  trump." 

"  That  he  is,"  said  Canterfield,  the  first  tragic;  "  an 
honour  to  human  nature.  A  man  whose  hand  is  open  as 
day  to  melting  charity,  and  whose  heart  ever  melts  at  the 
tale  of  woman's  distress." 

"  Pooh,  pooh,  stuff  and  nonsense,  sir,"  said  the  tailor; 
but,  upon  my  word,  ]\Ir.  Canterfield's  words  were  per- 
fectly correct.  I  wish  as  much  could  be  said  in  favour  of 
Woolsey 's  old  rival,  Mr.  Eglantine,  who  attended  the 
sale  too,  but  it  was  with  a  horrid  kind  of  satisfaction  at 
the  thought  that  Walker  w^as  ruined.  He  bought  the 
jxllow  satin  sofa  before  mentioned,  and  transferred  it 
to  what  he  calls  his  "  sitting-room,"  where  it  is  to  this 
day,  bearing  many  marks  of  the  best  bears'-grease. 
Woolsey  bid  against  Baroski  for  the  piano,  very  nearly 
up  to  the  actual  value  of  the  instrument,  when  the  artist 
withdrew  from  competition;  and  when  he  was  sneering 
at  the  ruin  of  Mr.  Walker,  the  tailor  sternly  interrupted 
him  by  saying,  "  What  the  deuce  are  yon  sneering  at? 
You  did  it,  sir;  and  you're  ])aid  every  shilHng  of  your 
claim,  ain't  you?  "  On  which  Baroski  turned  round  to 
Miss  Larkins,  and  said,  "  INIr.  Woolsey  was  a  '  snop;'  " 
the  very  word,  though  pronounced  somewhat  diffei'- 
ently,  which  tlie  gallant  Cornet  Fij)kin  liad  applied  to 
him. 

Well ;  so  he  wa.f  a  snob.  But,  vulgar  as  he  was,  I  de- 
clare, for  my  part,  that  I  have  a  greater  respect  for  Mr. 


352  MEN'S  WIVES 

Woolsey  than  for  any  single  nobleman  or  gentleman 
mentioned  in  this  true  history. 

It  will  be  seen  from  the  names  of  Messrs.  Canterfield 
and  Podmore  that  Morgiana  was  again  in  the  midst  of 
the  widow  Crump's  favourite  theatrical  society ;  and  this, 
indeed,  was  the  case.  The  widow's  little  room  was  hung 
round  with  the  pictures  which  were  mentioned  at  the  com- 
mencement of  the  story  as  decorating  the  bar  of  the 
"  Bootjack;  "  and  several  times  in  a  week  she  received 
her  friends  from  the  "  Wells,"  and  entertained  them 
with  such  humble  refreshments  of  tea  and  crumpets  as 
her  modest  means  permitted  her  to  purchase.  Among 
these  persons  Morgiana  lived  and  sung  quite  as  content- 
edly as  she  had  ever  done  among  the  demireps  of  her  hus- 
band's society;  and,  only  she  did  not  dare  to  own  it  to 
herself,  was  a  great  deal  happier  than  she  had  been  for 
many  a  day.  JNIrs.  Captain  Walker  was  still  a  great  lady 
amongst  them.  Even  in  his  ruin.  Walker,  the  director 
of  three  companies,  and  the  owner  of  the  splendid  pony- 
chaise,  was  to  these  simple  persons  an  awful  character; 
and  when  mentioned,  they  talked  with  a  great  deal  of 
gravity  of  his  being  in  the  country,  and  hoped  Mrs.  Cap- 
tain W.  had  good  news  of  him.  They  all  knew  he  was 
in  the  Fleet ;  but  had  he  not  in  prison  fought  a  duel  with 
a  viscount?  Montmorency  (of  the  Norfolk  circuit)  was 
in  the  Fleet  too ;  and  when  Canterfield  went  to  see  poor 
Montej%  the  latter  had  pointed  out  Walker  to  his  friend, 
who  actually  hit  Lord  George  Tennison  across  the  shoul- 
ders in  play  with  a  racket-bat;  which  event  was  soon 
made  known  to  the  whole  green-room. 

"  They  had  me  up  one  day,"  said  Montmorency,  "  to 
sing  a  comic  song,  and  'give  my  recitations ;  and  we  had 
champagne  and  lobster-salad :  such  nobs !  "  added  the 


THE   RAVENSWING  353 

plaj^er.  "  Billingsgate  and  Vauxhall  were  there  too,  and 
left  college  at  eight  o'clock." 

When  iNIorgiana  was  told  of  the  circumstance  by  her 
mother,  she  hoped  her  dear  Howard  had  enjoj^ed  the 
evening,  and  was  thankful  that  for  once  he  could  forget 
his  sorrows.  Nor,  somehow,  was  she  ashamed  of  herself 
for  being  happy  afterwards,  but  gave  way  to  her  natural 
good  humour  without  repentance  or  self -rebuke.  I  be- 
lieve, indeed,  (alas!  why  are  we  made  acquainted  with 
the  same  fact  regarding  ourselves  long  after  it  is  past 
and  gone?),— I  believe  these  were  the  happiest  days  of 
Morgiana's  whole  life.  She  had  no  cares  except  the 
pleasant  one  of  attending  on  her  husband,  an  easy,  smil- 
ing temperament  which  made  her  regardless  of  to-mor- 
row ;  and,  add  to  this,  a  delightful  hope  relative  to  a  cer- 
tain interesting  event  which  was  about  to  occur,  and 
which  I  shall  not  particularise  further  than  by  saying, 
that  she  was  cautioned  against  too  much  singing  bj^  ]\Ir. 
Squills,  her  medical  attendant;  and  that  widow  Crump 
was  busy  making-up  a  vast  number  of  little  caps  and  di- 
minutive cambric  shirts,  such  as  delighted  grandmothers 
are  in  the  habit  of  fashioning.  I  hope  this  is  as  genteel 
a  way  of  signifying  the  circumstance  which  was  about 
to  take  place  in  the  Walker  family  as  Miss  Prim  herself 
could  desire.  Mrs.  Walker's  mother  was  about  to  be- 
come a  grandmother.  There's  a  phrase!  The  Morning 
Post,  which  says  this  story  is  vulgar,  I'm  sure  cannot 
quarrel  with  that.  I  don't  believe  the  whole  Court  Guide 
would  convey  an  intimation  more  delicately. 

Well,  INIrs.  Crump's  little  grandchild  was  born,  en- 
tirely to  tlie  dissatisfaction,  I  must  say,  of  his  father; 
who,  when  the  infant  was  brought  to  liim  in  the  Fleet, 
had  him  abruptly  covered  up  in  his  cloak  again,  from 


354  MEN'S  WIVES 

which  he  had  been  removed  by  the  jealous  prison  door- 
keepers; Avhy,  do  you  think?  Walker  had  a  quarrel  with 
one  of  them,  and  the  wretch  persisted  in  believing  that 
the  bundle  IMrs.  Crump  was  bringing  to  her  son-in-law 
was  a  bundle  of  disguised  brandy ! 

"The  brutes!"  said  the  lady;  "and  the  father's  a 
brute  too,"  said  she.  "  He  takes  no  more  notice  of  me 
than  if  I  was  a  kitchenmaid,  and  of  Woolsey  than  if  he 
was  a  leg  of  mutton — the  dear,  blessed  little  cherub!  " 

Mrs.  Crump  was  a  mother-in-law;  let  us  pardon  her 
hatred  of  her  daughter's  husband. 

The  Woolsey  compared  in  the  above  sentence  both  to 
a  leg  of  mutton  and  a  cherub,  was  not  the  eminent  mem- 
ber of  the  firm  of  Linsey,  Woolsey  and  Co.,  but  the  little 
baby,  who  was  christened  Howard  Woolsey  Walker, 
with  the  full  consent  of  the  father;  who  said  the  tailor 
was  a  deuced  good  fellow,  and  felt  really  obliged  to  him 
for  the  sherry,  for  a  frock-coat  which  he  let  him  have  in 
prison,  and  for  his  kindness  to  Morgiana.  The  tailor 
loved  the  little  boy  with  all  his  soul;  he  attended  his 
mother  to  her  churching,  and  the  child  to  the  font ;  and, 
as  a  present  to  his  little  godson  on  his  christening,  he 
sent  two  yards  of  the  finest  white  kerseymere  in  his  shop 
to  make  him  a  cloak.  The  Duke  had  had  a  pair  of  in- 
expressibles off  that  very  piece. 

House-furniture  is  bought  and  sold,  music  lessons  are 
given,  children  are  born  and  christened,  ladies  are  con- 
fined and  churched — time,  in  other  words,  passes — and 
yet  Captain  Walker  still  remains  in  prison !  Does  it  not 
seem  strange  that  he  should  still  languish  there  between 
palisaded  walls  near  Fleet  Market,  and  that  he  should 
not  be  restored  to  that  active  and  fashionable  world  of 
which  he  was  an  ornament  ?    The  fact  is,  the  Captain  had 


THE   RAVENSWING  355 

been  before  the  Court  for  the  examination  of  his  debts ; 
and  the  Commissioner,  with  a  cruelty  quite  shameful 
towards  a  fallen  man,  had  qualified  his  ways  of  getting 
money  in  most  severe  language,  and  had  sent  him  back 
to  prison  again  for  the  space  of  nine  calendar  months,  an 
indefinite  period,  and  until  his  accounts  could  be  made 
up.  This  delay  Walker  bore  like  a  philosopher,  and,  far 
from  repining,  was  still  the  gayest  fellow  of  the  tennis- 
court,  and  the  soul  of  tlie  midnight  carouse. 

There  is  no  use  in  raking  up  old  stories,  and  hunting 
through  files  of  dead  newspapers,  to  know  what  were  the 
specific  acts  which  made  the  Commissioner  so  angry  with 
Captain  Walker.  :Many  a  rogue  has  come  before  the 
Court,  and  passed  through  it  since  then :  and  I  would  lay 
a  wager  that  Howard  Walker  was  not  a  bit  worse  than 
his  neighbours.  But  as  he  was  not  a  lord,  and  as  he  had 
no  friends  on  coming  out  of  prison,  and  had  settled  no 
money  on  his  wife,  and  had,  as  it  must  be  confessed,  an 
exceedingly  bad  character,  it  is  not  likely  that  the  latter 
would  be  forgiven  him  when  once  more  free  in  the  world. 
For  instance,  when  Doublequits  left  the  Fleet,  he  was 
received  with  open  arms  by  his  family,  and  had  two-and- 
thirty  horses  in  his  stables  before  a  week  was  over.  Pam, 
of  the  Dragoons,  came  out,  and  instantly  got  a  place  as 
government  courier,— a  place  found  so  good  of  late 
years  (and  no  wonder,  it  is  better  pay  than  that  of  a 
colonel),  that  our  noblemen  and  gentry  eagerly  press 
for  it.  Frank  Hurricane  was  sent  out  as  registrar  of 
Tobago,  or  Sago,  or  Ticonderago;  in  fact,  for  a  younger 
son  of  good  family  it  is  rather  advantageous  to  get  into 
debt  twenty  or  thirty  thousand  pounds;  you  are  sure  of  a 
good  place  afterwards  in  tlie  colonies.  Your  friends  are 
so  anxious  to  get  rid  of  you,  that  they  will  move  heaven 


356  MEN'S  WIVES 

and  earth  to  serve  you.    And  so  all  the  above  companions 
of  misfortune  with  Walker  were  speedily  made  comfort- 
able ;  but  he  had  no  rich  parents ;  his  old  father  was  dead 
in  York  jail.    How  was  he  to  start  in  the  world  again? 
What  friendly  hand  was  there  to  fill  his  pocket  with 
gold,  and  his  cup  with  sparkling  champagne?    He  was, 
in  fact,  an  object  of  the  greatest  pity,— for  I  know  of  no 
greater  than  a  gentleman  of  his  habits  without  the  means 
of  gratifying  them.    He  must  live  well,  and  he  has  not 
the  means.     Is  there  a  more  pathetic  case?     As  for  a 
mere  low  beggar;— some  labourless  labourer,  or  some 
weaver  out  of  place— don't  let  us  throw  away  our  com- 
passion upon  them.    Psha !  they're  accustomed  to  starve. 
They  can  sleep  upon  boards,  or  dine  off  a  crust ;  whereas 
a  gentleman  would  die  in  the  same  situation.    I  think  this 
was  poor  Morgiana's  way  of  reasoning.    For  Walker's 
cash  in  prison  beginning  presently  to  run  low,  and  know- 
ing quite  well  that  the  dear  fellow  could  not  exist  there 
without  the  luxuries  to  which  he  had  been  accustomed, 
she  borrowed  money  from  her  mother,  until  the  poor  old 
lady  was  a  sec.    She  even  confessed,  with  tears,  to  Wool- 
sey,  that  she  was  in  particular  want  of  twenty  pounds,  to 
pay  a  poor  milliner,  whose  debt  she  could  not  bear  to  put 
in  her  husband's  schedule.    And  I  need  not  say  she  car- 
ried the  money  to  her  husband,  who  might  have  been 
greatly  benefited  by  it,— only  he  had  a  bad  run  of  luck  at 
the  cards ;  and  how  the  deuce  can  a  man  help  that? 

Woolsey  had  repurchased  for  her  one  of  the  Cashmere 
shawls.  She  left  it  behind  her  one  day  at  the  Fleet 
prison,  and  some  rascal  stole  it  there ;  having  the  grace, 
however,  to  send  Woolsey  the  ticket,  signifying  the  place 
where  it  had  been  pawned.  Who  could  the  scoundrel 
have  been?    Woolsey  swore  a  great  oath,  and  fancied  he 


THE   RAVENSWING  357 

knew;  but  if  it  was  Walker  himself  (as  Woolsey  fan- 
cied, and  probably  as  was  the  case)  who  made  away  with 
the  shawl,  being  pressed  thereto  by  necessity,  was  it  fair 
to  call  him  a  scoundrel  for  so  doing,  and  should  we  not 
rather  laud  the  delicacy  of  his  proceeding?  He  was 
poor;  who  can  command  the  cards?  but  he  did  not  wish 
his  wife  should  know  how  poor:  he  could  not  bear  that 
she  should  suppose  him  arrived  at  the  necessity  of  pawn- 
ing a  shawl. 

She  who  had  such  beautiful  ringlets,  of  a  sudden 
pleaded  cold  in  the  head,  and  took  to  wearing  caps.  One 
summer  evening,  as  she  and  the  baby  and  Mrs.  Crump 
and  Woolsey  (let  us  say  all  four  babies  together)  were 
laughing  and  playing  in  Mrs.  Crump's  drawing-room, — 
playing  the  most  absurd  gambols,  fat  Mrs.  Crump,  for 
instance,  hiding  behind  the  sofa,  Woolsey  chuck-chuck- 
ing, cock-a-doodle-dooing,  and  performing  those  inde- 
scribable freaks  which  gentlemen  with  philoprogenitive 
organs  will  execute  in  the  company  of  children, — in  the 
midst  of  their  play  the  baby  gave  a  tug  at  his  mother's 
cap;  off  it  came — her  hair  was  cut  close  to  her  head! 

Morgiana  turned  as  red  as  sealing-wax,  and  trembled 
very  much;  Mrs.  Crump  screamed,  "  My  child,  where  is 
your  hair?  "  and  Woolsey,  bursting  out  with  a  most  tre- 
mendous oath  against  Walker  that  would  send  Miss 
Prim  into  convulsions,  put  his  handkerchief  to  liis  face, 
and  actually  wept.  "  The  infernal  bubble-ubble-ack- 
guard!  "  said  he,  roaring  and  clenching  his  fists. 

As  he  had  passed  the  Bower  of  Bloom  a  few  days  be- 
fore, he  saw  Mossrose,  who  was  com])ing  out  a  jet-})lack 
ringlet,  and  held  it  up,  as  if  for  Woolsey's  examination, 
with  a  peculiar  grin.  Tlie  tailor  did  not  understand  the 
joke,  but  he  saw  now  what  had  happened.     Morgiana 


358  MEN'S  WIVES 

had  sold  her  hair  for  five  guineas;  she  would  have  sold 
her  arm  had  her  husband  bidden  her.  On  looking  in  her 
drawers  it  was  found  she  had  sold  almost  all  her  wearing- 
apparel;  the  child's  clothes  were  all  there,  however.  It 
was  because  her  husband  talked  of  disposing  of  a  gilt 
coral  that  the  child  had,  that  she  had  parted  with  the 
locks  which  had  formed  her  pride. 

"  I'll  give  you  twenty  guineas  for  that  hair,  you  infa- 
mous fat  coward,"  roared  the  little  tailor  to  Eglantine 
that  evening.    "  Give  it  up,  or  111  kill  you—" 

"Mr.  Mossrose!  ^Mr.  Mossrose!"  shouted  the  per- 
fumer. 

"  Veil,  vatsh  de  matter,  vatsh  de  row,  fight  avay,  my 
boys;  two  to  one  on  the  tailor, '  said  Mr.  Mossrose,  much 
enjoying  the  sport  (for  Woolsey,  striding  through  the 
shop  without  speaking  to  him,  had  rushed  into  the  studio, 
where  he  plumped  upon  Eglantine) . 

"  Tell  him  about  that  hair,  sir." 

"  That  hair!  Now  keep  yourself  quiet,  Mister  Timble, 
and  don't  tink  for  to  bully  me.  You  mean  Mrs.  Valkers 
'air?    Vy,  she  sold  it  me." 

"  And  the  more  blackguard  you  for  buying  it!  Will 
you  take  twenty  guineas  for  it?  " 

"  No,"  said  Mossrose. 

"  Twenty-five?  " 

"  Can't,"  said  ^lossrose. 

"  Hang  it ;  will  you  take  forty  ?    There !  " 

"  I  vish  I'd  kep  it,"  said  the  Hebrew  gentleman,  with 
unfeigned  regret.  "  Eglantine  dressed  it  this  very 
night." 

"  For  Countess  Baldenstiern,  the  Swedish  Hambassa- 
dor's  lady,"  says  Eglantine  (his  Hebrew  partner  was  by 
no  means  a  favourite  with  the  ladies,  and  only  superin- 


THE   RAVEN  SWIXG  359 

tended  the  accounts  of  the  concern).  "It's  this  very 
night  at  Devonshire  'Ouse,  with  four  hostrich  plumes, 
lappets,  and  trimmings.  And  now,  ISlr.  Woolsey,  I'll 
trouble  you  to  apologise." 

Mr.  Woolsey  did  not  answer,  but  walked  up  to  JNIr. 
Eglantine,  and  snapped  his  fingers  so  close  under  the 
perfumer's  nose  that  the  latter  started  back  and  seized 
the  bell-rope.  oMossrose  burst  out  laughing,  and  the 
tailor  walked  majestically  from  the  shop,  with  both 
hands  stuck  between  the  lappets  of  his  coat. 

"  My  dear,"  said  he  to  ]\Iorgiana  a  short  time  after- 
wards, "  you  must  not  encourage  that  husband  of  yours 
in  his  extravagance,  and  sell  the  clothes  off  your  poor 
back,  that  he  may  feast  and  act  the  fine  gentleman  in 
prison." 

"It  is  his  health,  poor  dear  soul!"  interposed  INIrs. 
Walker:  "  his  chest.  Every  farthing  of  the  money  goes 
to  the  doctors,  poor  fellow !  " 

"  Well,  now  listen:  I  am  a  rich  man  (it  was  a  great  fib, 
for  Woolsey 's  income,  as  a  junior  partner  of  the  firm, 
was  but  a  small  one)  ;  I  can  very  well  afford  to  make  him 
an  allowance  while  he  is  in  the  Fleet,  and  have  written  to 
him  to  say  so.  But  if  you  ever  give  him  a  penny,  or  sell 
a  trinket  belonging  to  you,  upon  my  word  and  honour  I 
will  withdraw  the  allowance,  and,  thougli  it  would  go  to 
my  heart,  I'll  never  see  you  again.  You  wouldn't  make 
me  unhappy,  would  you?  " 

"  I'd  go  on  my  knees  to  serve  3^ou,  and  Heaven  bless 
you,"  said  the  wife. 

"  Well,  then,  you  must  give  me  this  promise."  And 
she  did.  "  And  now,"  said  he,  "  your  mother,  and  Pod- 
more,  and  I,  have  been  talking  over  matters,  and  we've 
agreed  that  you  may  make  a  very  good  income  for  your- 


360  MEN'S  WIVES 

self;  though,  to  be  sure,  I  wish  it  could  have  been  man- 
aged any  other  way ;  but  needs  must,  you  know.  You're 
the  finest  singer  in  the  universe." 

"  La!  "  said  INIorgiana,  highly  delighted. 
"I  never  heard  anything  like  you,  though  I'm  no 
judge.  Podmore  says  he  is  sure  you  will  do  very  well, 
and  has  no  doubt  j^ou  might  get  very  good  engagements 
at  concerts  or  on  the  stage;  and  as  that  husband  will 
never  do  any  good,  and  you  have  a  child  to  support,  sing 
you  must." 

"  Oh !  how  glad  I  should  be  to  pay  his  debts  and  repay 
all  he  has  done  for  me,"  cried  Mrs.  Walker.  "  Think  of 
his  giving  two  hundred  guineas  to  Mr.  Baroski  to  have 
me  taught.  Was  not  that  kind  of  him?  Do  you  really 
think  I  should  succeed?  " 

"  There's  ^liss  Larkins  has  succeeded." 
"  The  little  high-shouldered,  vulgar  thing!  "  says  Mor- 
giana.    "  I'm  sure  I  ought  to  succeed  if  she  did." 

"She  sing  against  Morgiana?  "  said  Mrs.  Crump. 
"  I'd  like  to  see  her,  indeed!  She  ain't  fit  to  snufF  a 
candle  to  her." 

"  I  dare  say  not,"  said  the  tailor,  "  though  I  don't  un- 
derstand the  thing  myself ;  but  if  Morgiana  can  make  a 
fortune,  why  shouldn't  she?  " 

"  Heaven  knows  we  want  it,  Woolsey,"  cried  Mrs. 
Crump.  "  And  to  see  her  on  the  stage  was  always  the 
wish  of  my  heart:  "  and  so  it  had  formerly  been  the  wish 
of  Morgiana:  and  now,  with  the  hope  of  helping  her 
husband  and  child,  the  wish  became  a  duty,  and  she  fell 
to  practising  once  more  from  morning  till  night. 

One  of  the  most  generous  of  men  and  tailors  who  ever 
lived  now  promised,  if  further  instruction  should  be  con- 
sidered necessary  (though  that  he  could  hardly  believe 


THE   RAVENSVVING  361 

possible) ,  that  he  would  lend  INIorgiana  any  sum  required 
for  the  payment  of  lessons;  and  accordingly  she  once 
more  betook  herself,  under  Podmore's  advice,  to  the  sing- 
ing school.  Baroski's  academy  was,  after  the  passages 
between  them,  out  of  the  question,  and  she  placed  herself 
under  the  instruction  of  the  excellent  English  composer 
Sir  George  Thrum,  whose  large  and  awful  wife,  Lady 
Thrum,  dragon  of  virtue  and  propriety,  kept  watch  over 
the  master  and  the  pupils,  and  was  the  sternest  guardian 
of  female  virtue  on  or  off  any  stage. 

Morgiana  came  at  a  propitious  moment.  Baroski  had 
launched  ^liss  Larkins  under  the  name  of  Ligonier. 
The  Ligonier  was  enjoying  considerable  success,  and 
was  singing  classical  music  to  tolerable  audiences, 
whereas  JNIiss  Butts,  Sir  George's  last  pupil,  had  turned 
out  a  complete  failure,  and  the  rival  house  was  only  able 
to  make  a  faint  opposition  to  the  new  star  with  Miss 
M'Whirter,  who,  though  an  old  favourite,  had  lost  her 
upper  notes  and  her  front  teeth,  and,  the  fact  was,  drew 
no  longer. 

Directly  Sir  George  heard  Mrs.  Walker,  he  tapped 
Podmore,  who  accompanied  her,  on  the  waistcoat,  and 
said,  "Poddy,  thank  you;  we'll  cut  the  orange-boy's 
throat  with  that  voice."  It  was  by  the  familiar  title  of 
orange-boy  that  the  great  Baroski  was  known  among  his 
opponents. 

"  We'll  crush  him,  Podmore,"  said  Lady  Thrum,  in 
her  deep  hollow  voice.  "  You  may  stop  and  dine."  And 
Podmore  stayed  to  dinner,  and  ate  cold  mutton,  and 
drank  Marsala  with  the  greatest  reverence  for  the  great 
English  composer.  The  very  next  day  Lady  Thrum 
hired  a  pair  of  horses,  and  paid  a  visit  to  Mrs.  Crump  and 
her  daughter  at  "  Sadler's  Wells." 


362  MEN'S  WIVES 

All  these  things  were  kept  profoundly  secret  from 
Walker,  who  received  very  magnanimously  the  allow- 
ance of  two  guineas  a-week  which  Woolsey  made  him, 
and  with  the  aid  of  the  few  shillings  his  wife  could  bring 
him,  managed  to  exist  as  best  he  might.  He  did  not  dis- 
like gin  when  he  could  get  no  claret,  and  the  former 
liquor,  under  the  name  of  "  tape,"  used  to  be  measured 
out  pretty  liberally  in  what  was  formerly  her  Majesty's 
prison  of  the  Fleet. 

Morgiana  pursued  her  studies  under  Thrum,  and  we 
shall  hear  in  the  next  chapter  how  it  was  she  changed  her 
name  to  Ravenswing. 


CHAPTER   VII 

IN  WHICH  MORGIANA  ADVANCES  TOWARDS  FAME  AND  HONOUR, 
AND  IN  WHICH  SEVERAL  GREAT  LITERARY  CHARACTERS  MAKE 
THEIR    APPEARANCE 

WE  must  begin,  my  dear  madam,"  said  Sir  George 
Thrum,  "  by  unlearning  all  that  Mr.  Baroski 
(of  whom  I  do  not  wish  to  speak  with  the  slightest  disre- 
spect) has  taught  you!  " 

Morgiana  knew  that  every  professor  says  as  much,  and 
submitted  to  undergo  the  study  requisite  for  Sir 
George's  system  with  perfect  good  grace.  Au  fond,  as 
I  was  given  to  understand,  the  methods  of  the  two  artists 
were  pretty  similar;  but  as  there  was  rivalry  between 
them,  and  continual  desertion  of  scholars  from  one  school 
to  another,  it  was  fair  for  each  to  take  all  the  credit  he 


THE   RAVENSWING  363 

could  get  in  the  success  of  any  pupil.  If  a  pupil  failed, 
for  instance,  Thmm  would  say  Baroski  had  spoiled  her 
irretrievably;  while  the  German  would  regret  "  Dat  dat 
yong  voman,  who  had  a  good  organ,  should  have  trown 
away  her  dime  wid  dat  old  Drum."  When  one  of  these 
deserters  succeeded,  "  Yes,  yes,"  would  either  professor 
cry,  "  I  formed  her,  she  owes  her  fortune  to  me."  Both 
of  them  thus,  in  future  days,  claimed  the  education  of 
the  famous  Ravenswing;  and  even  Sir  George  Thrum, 
though  he  wished  to  ecraser  the  Ligonier,  pretended  that 
her  present  success  was  his  work,  because  once  she  had 
been  brought  by  her  mother,  ^Irs.  Larkins,  to  sing  for 
Sir  George's  approval. 

When  the  two  professors  met  it  was  with  the  most  de- 
lighted cordiality  on  the  part  of  both.  '' Mein  lieher 
Herr,"  Thrum  would  say  (with  some  malice),  "your 
sonata  in  x  flat  is  divine."  "  Chevalier,"  Baroski  would 
reply,  "  dat  andante  movement  in  w  is  worthy  of  Bee- 
thoven. I  gif  you  my  sacred  honour,"  and  so  forth.  In 
fact,  they  loved  each  other  as  gentlemen  in  their  profes- 
sion always  do. 

The  two  famous  professors  conduct  their  academics  on 
very  opposite  principles.  Baroski  writes  ballet  music; 
Thrum,  on  the  contrary,  says  "  he  cannot  but  deplore  the 
dangerous  fascinations  of  the  dance,"  and  writes  more 
for  Exeter  Hall  and  Birmingham.  While  Baroski 
drives  a  cab  in  the  park  with  a  very  suspicious  JNIademoi- 
selle  Leocadie,  or  Amenaide,  by  his  side,  you  may  see 
Thrum  walking  to  evening  church  with  his  lady,  and 
hymns  are  sung  there  of  his  own  composition.  He  be- 
longs to  the  "  Athenaeum  Club,"  he  goes  to  the  levcc  once 
a-year,  he  does  everything  that  a  respeetal)le  man  sliould, 
and  if,  by  the  means  of  this  respectability,  he  manages  to 


364  MEN'S  WIVES 

make  his  little  trade  far  more  profitable  than  it  otherwise 
would  be,  are  we  to  quarrel  with  him  for  it? 

Sir  George,  in  fact,  had  every  reason  to  be  respectable. 
He  had  been  a  choir-boy  at  Windsor,  had  played  to  the 
old  King's  violoncello,  had  been  intimate  with  him,  and 
had  received  knighthood  at  the  hand  of  his  revered  sov- 
ereign. He  had  a  snufF-box  which  his  IMajesty  gave 
him,  and  portraits  of  him  and  the  young  princes  all  over 
the  house.  He  had  also  a  foreign  order  (no  other,  in- 
deed, than  the  Elephant  and  Castle  of  Kalbsbraten- 
Pumpernickel ) ,  conferred  upon  him  by  the  Grand  Duke 
when  here  with  the  allied  sovereigns  in  1814.  With  this 
ribbon  round  his  neck,  on  gala  days,  and  in  a  white  waist- 
coat, the  old  gentleman  looked  splendid  as  he  moved 
along  in  a  blue  coat  with  the  Windsor  button,  and  neat 
black  small-clothes,  and  silk  stockings.  He  lived  in  an 
old,  tall,  dingy  house,  furnished  in  the  reign  of  George 
III.,  his  beloved  master,  and  not  much  more  cheerful 
now  than  a  family  vault.  They  are  awfully  funereal 
those  ornaments  of  the  close  of  the  last  century, — tall, 
gloomy,  horse-hair  chairs,  mouldy  Turkey  carpets,  with 
wretched  druggets  to  guard  them,  little  cracked  stick- 
ing-plaster miniatures  of  people  in  tours  and  pig-tails 
over  high-shouldered  mantelpieces,  two  dismal  urns  on 
each  side  of  a  lanky  sideboard,  and  in  the  midst  a  queer 
twisted  receptacle  for  worn-out  knives  with  green  han- 
dles. Under  the  sideboard  stands  a  cellaret  that  looks 
as  if  it  held  half  a  bottle  of  currant  wine,  and  a  shivering 
plate-warmer  that  never  could  get  any  comfort  out  of 
the  wretched  old  cramped  grate  yonder.  Don't  you 
know  in  such  houses  the  grey  gloom  that  hangs  over  the 
stairs,  the  dull-coloured  old  carpet  that  winds  its  way 
up  the  same,  growing  thinner,  duller,  and  more  thread- 


THE  RAVEN  SWING  365 

bare,  as  it  mounts  to  the  bed-room  floors?  There  is  some- 
thing awful  in  the  bed-room  of  a  respectable  old  couple 
of  sixty-five.  Think  of  the  old  feathers,  turbans,  bugles, 
petticoats,  pomatum-pots,  spencers,  white  satin  shoes, 
false  fronts,  the  old  flaccid,  boneless  stays  tied  up  in 
faded  riband,  the  dusky  fans,  the  old  forty-years-old 
baby-linen,  the  letters  of  Sir  George  when  he  was  young, 
the  doll  of  poor  jNIaria,  who  died  in  1803,  Frederick's 
first  corduroy  breeches,  and  the  newspaper  which  con- 
tains the  account  of  his  distinguishing  himself  at  the 
siege  of  Seringapatam.  All  these  lie  somewhere,  damp 
and  squeezed  down  into  glum  old  presses  and  wardrobes. 
At  that  glass  the  wife  has  sat  many  times  these  fifty 
years;  in  that  old  morocco  bed  her  children  were  born. 
Where  are  they  now?  Fred,  the  brave  captain,  and 
Charles,  the  saucy  colleger;  there  hangs  a  drawing  of 
him  done  by  ]Mr.  Beechey,  and  that  sketch  by  Cosway 
was  the  very  likeness  of  Louisa  before  .  .  . 

"Mr.  Fitz-Boodle!  for  Heaven's  sake  come  down. 
What  are  you  doing  in  a  lady's  bed-room?  " 

"  The  fact  is,  madam,  I  had  no  business  there  in  life; 
but,  having  had  quite  enough  wine  with  Sir  George,  my 
thoughts  had  wandered  upstairs  into  the  sanctuary  of 
female  excellence,  where  your  ladyship  nightly  reposes. 
You  do  not  sleep  so  well  now  as  in  old  days,  though 
there  is  no  patter  of  little  steps  to  wake  you  over- 
head." 

They  call  that  room  the  nursery  still,  and  the  little 
wicket  still  hangs  at  the  upper  stairs:  it  has  been  there 
for  forty  years  — ho7i  Dicu!  Can't  you  see  tlic  gliosts  of 
little  faces  peering  over  it?  I  wonder  wlK'ther  they  get 
up  in  the  night  as  the  moonlight  sliines  into  the  blank, 
vacant  old  room,  and  play  there  solemnly  with  little 


366  MEN'S  WIVES 

ghostly  horses,  and  the  spirits  of  dolls,  and  tops  that  turn 
and  turn  but  don't  hum. 

Once  more,  sir,  come  down  to  the  lower  storey — that 
is,  to  the  Morgiana  story — with  which  the  above  sen- 
tences have  no  more  to  do  than  this  morning's  leading 
article  in  The  Times;  only  it  was  at  this  house  of  Sir 
George  Thrum's  that  I  met  Morgiana.  Sir  George,  in 
old  days,  had  instructed  some  of  the  female  members  of 
our  family,  and  I  recollect  cutting  my  fingers  as  a  child 
with  one  of  those  attenuated  green-handled  knives  in  the 
queer  box  yonder. 

In  those  days  Sir  George  Thrum  was  the  first  great 
musical  teacher  of  London,  and  the  royal  patronage 
brought  him  a  great  number  of  fashionable  pupils,  of 
whom  Lady  Fitz-Boodle  was  one.  It  was  a  long,  long 
time  ago:  in  fact.  Sir  George  Thrum  was  old  enough  to 
remember  persons  who  had  been  present  at  ]Mr.  Braham's 
first  appearance,  and  the  old  gentleman's  days  of  tri- 
umph had  been  those  of  Billington  and  Incledon,  Cata- 
lani  and  INIadame  Storace. 

He  was  the  author  of  several  operas  ("  The  Camel 
Driver,"  "  Britons  Alarmed;  or  the  Siege  of  Bergen-op- 
Zoom,"  &c.  &c.)  and,  of  course,  of  songs  which  had  con- 
siderable success  in  their  day,  but  are  forgotten  now,  and 
are  as  much  faded  and  out  of  fashion  as  those  old  carpets 
which  WT  have  described  in  the  professor's  house,  and 
which  were,  doubtless,  very  brilliant  once.  But  such  is 
the  fate  of  carpets,  of  flowers,  of  music,  of  men,  and  of 
the  most  admirable  novels — even  this  story  will  not  be 
alive  for  many  centuries.  Well,  well,  why  struggle 
against  Fate? 

But,  though  his  hey-day  of  fashion  was  gone.  Sir 
George  still  held  his  place  among  the  musicians  of  the 


THE   RAVENSWING  367 

old  school,  conducted  occasionally  at  the  Ancient  Con- 
certs and  the  "  Philharmonic,"  and  his  glees  are  still  fa- 
vourites after  public  dinners,  and  are  sung  by  those  old 
bacchanalians,  in  chestnut  wigs,  who  attend  for  the  pur- 
pose of  amusing  the  guests  on  such  occasions  of  festivity. 
The  great  old  people  at  the  gloomy  old  concerts  before 
mentioned  always  pay  Sir  George  marked  respect;  and, 
indeed,  from  the  old  gentleman's  peculiar  behaviour  to 
his  superiors,  it  is  impossible  they  should  not  be  delighted 
with  him,  so  he  leads  at  almost  every  one  of  the  concerts 
in  the  old-fashioned  houses  in  town. 

Becomingly  obsequious  to  his  superiors,  he  is  with  the 
rest  of  the  world  properly  majestic,  and  has  obtained 
no  small  success  by  his  admirable  and  undeviating  re- 
spectability. Respectability  has  been  his  great  card 
through  life;  ladies  can  trust  their  daughters  at  Sir 
George  Thrum's  academy.  "A  good  musician,  mad- 
am," says  he  to  the  mother  of  a  new  pupil,  "  should 
not  only  have  a  fine  ear,  a  good  voice,  and  an  indomit- 
able industry,  but,  above  all,  a  faultless  character — 
faultless,  that  is,  as  far  as  our  poor  nature  will  permit. 
And  you  will  remark  that  those  young  persons  with 
whom  your  lovely  daughter.  Miss  Smith,  will  pursue  her 
musical  studies,  are  all,  in  a  moral  point  of  view,  as  spot- 
less as  that  charming  young  lady.  How  sliould  it  be 
otherwise?  I  have  been  myself  the  father  of  a  family; 
I  have  been  honoured  with  the  intimacy  of  the  wisest  and 
best  of  kings,  my  late  sovereign  George  III.,  and  I  can 
proudly  show  an  example  of  decorum  to  my  pupils  in 
my  Sophia.  Mrs.  Smith,  I  have  the  honour  of  introduc- 
ing to  you  my  Lady  Thrum." 

The  old  lady  would  rise  at  this,  and  make  a  gigantic 
curtsey,  such  a  one  as  had  begun  llic  minuet  at  Rane- 


368  MEN'S  WIVES 

lagh  fifty  years  ago,  and,  the  introduction  ended,  Mrs. 
Smith  would  retire,  after  having  seen  the  portraits  of 
the  princes,  his  late  Majesty's  snufF-box,  and  a  piece  of 
music  which  he  used  to  play,  noted  by  himself — Mrs. 
Smith,  I  say,  would  drive  back  to  Baker  Street,  de- 
lighted to  think  that  her  Frederica  had  secured  so  eli- 
gible and  respectable  a  master.  I  forgot  to  say  that, 
during  the  interview  between  JNIrs.  Smith  and  Sir 
George,  the  latter  would  be  called  out  of  his  study  by  his 
black  servant,  and  my  Lady  Thrum  would  take  that 
opportunity  of  mentioning  when  he  was  knighted,  and 
how  he  got  his  foreign  order,  and  deploring  the  sad  con- 
dition of  other  musical  professors,  and  the  dreadful  im- 
morality which  sometimes  arose  in  consequence  of  their 
laxness.  Sir  George  was  a  good  deal  engaged  to  dinners 
in  the  season,  and  if  invited  to  dine  with  a  nobleman,  as 
he  might  j^ossibly  be  on  the  day  when  JMrs.  Smith  re- 
quested the  honour  of  his  company,  he  would  write  back 
"  that  he  should  have  had  the  sincerest  happiness  in  wait- 
ing upon  Mrs.  Smith  in  Baker  Street,  if,  previously,  my 
Lord  Tweedledale  had  not  been  so  kind  as  to  engage 
him."  This  letter,  of  course,  shown  by  ]Mrs.  Smith  to 
her  friends,  was  received  by  them  with  proper  respect; 
and  thus,  in  spite  of  age  and  new  fashions,  Sir  George 
still  reigned  pre-eminent  for  a  mile  round  Cavendish 
Square.  By  the  young  pupils  of  the  academy  he  was 
called  Sir  Charles  Grandison ;  and,  indeed,  fully  deserved 
this  title  on  account  of  the  indomitable  respectability  of 
his  whole  actions. 

It  was  under  this  gentleman  that  JNIorgiana  made  her 
debut  in  public  life.  I  do  not  know  what  arrangements 
may  have  been  made  between  Sir  George  Thrum  and 
his  pupil  regarding  the  profits  which  were  to  accrue  to  the 


THE   RAVENSWING  369 

former  from  engagements  procured  by  him  for  the  lat- 
ter; but  there  was,  no  doubt,  an  understanding  between 
them.  For  Sir  George,  respectable  as  he  was,  had  the 
reputation  of  being  extremely  clever  at  a  bargain;  and 
Lady  Thrum  herself,  in  her  great  high-tragedy  way, 
could  purchase  a  pair  of  soles  or  select  a  leg  of  mutton 
with  the  best  housekeeper  in  London. 

When,  however,  INIorgiana  had  been  for  some  six 
months  under  his  tuition,  he  began,  for  some  reason  or 
other,  to  be  exceedingly  hospitable,  and  invited  his 
friends  to  numerous  entertainments;  at  one  of  which, 
as  I  have  said,  I  had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  JNIrs. 
Walker. 

Although  the  worthy  musician's  dinners  were  not 
good,  the  old  knight  had  some  excellent  wine  in  his 
cellar,  and  his  arrangement  of  his  party  deserves  to  be 
commended. 

For  instance,  he  meets  me  and  Bob  Fitz-Urse  in  Pall 
Mall,  at  whose  paternal  house  he  was  also  a  visitor. 
"  My  dear  young  gentlemen,"  says  he,  "  will  you  come 
and  dine  with  a  poor  musical  composer?  I  have  some 
comet-hock  and,  what  is  more  curious  to  you  perhaps,  as 
men  of  wit,  one  or  two  of  the  great  literary  characters 
of  London  whom  you  would  like  to  see — quite  curiosi- 
ties, my  dear  young  friends."    And  we  agreed  to  go. 

To  the  literary  men  he  says,  "  I  have  a  little  quiet 
party  at  home.  Lord  Roundtowers,  the  Honourable  ]Mr. 
Fitz-Urse  of  the  IJfe  Guards,  and  a  few  more.  Can  yOu 
tear  yourself  away  from  the  war  of  wits,  and  take  a 
quiet  dinner  with  a  few  mere  men  about  town?  " 

The  literary  men  instantly  purchase  new  satin  stocks 
and  white  gloves,  and  are  deliglited  to  fancy  themselves 
members  of  the  world  of  fashion.     Instead  of  inviting 


370  MEN'S  WIVES 

twelve  Royal  Academicians,  or  a  dozen  authors,  or  a 
dozen  men  of  science  to  dinner,  as  his  Grace  the  Duke  of 

and  the  Right  Honourable  Sir  Robert are  in 

the  habit  of  doing  once  a  year,  this  plan  of  fusion  is  the 
one  they  should  adopt.  Not  invite  all  artists,  as  they 
would  invite  all  farmers  to  a  rent-dinner;  but  they 
should  have  a  proper  commingling  of  artists  and  men  of 
the  world.  There  is  one  of  the  latter  whose  name  is 
George  Savage  Fitz-Boodle,  who— But  let  us  return  to 
Sir  George  Thrum. 

Fitz-Urse  and  I  arrive  at  the  dismal  old  house,  and 
are  conducted  up  the  staircase  by  a  black  servant,  who 
shouts  out,  "  jNIissa  Fiss-Boodle— the  Honourable  Missa 
Fiss-Urse!  "  It  was  evident  that  Lady  Thrum  had  in- 
structed the  swarthy  groom  of  the  chambers  ( for  there 
is  nothing  particularly  honourable  in  my  friend  Fitz's 
face  that  I  know  of,  unless  an  abominable  squint  may  be 
said  to  be  so) .  Lady  Thrum,  whose  figure  is  something 
like  that  of  the  shot-tower  opposite  Waterloo  Bridge, 
makes  a  majestic  inclination  and  a  speech  to  signify  her 
pleasure  at  receiving  under  her  roof  two  of  the  children 
of  Sir  George's  best  pupils.  A  lady  in  black  velvet  is 
seated  by  the  old  fireplace,  with  whom  a  stout  gentleman 
in  an  exceedingly  light  coat  and  ornamental  waistcoat 
is  talking  very  busily.  "  The  great  star  of  the  night," 
whispers  our  host.  "  INIrs.  Walker,  gentlemen— the 
Ravenswing!  She  is  talking  to  the  famous  ^Mr.  Slang, 
of  the theatre." 

"  Is  she  a  fine  singer?  "  says  Fitz-Urse.  "  She's  a 
very  fine  woman." 

"  ;My  dear  young  friends,  you  shall  hear  to-night!  I, 
who  have  heard  every  fine  voice  in  Europe,  confidently 
pledge  my  respectability  that  the  Ravenswing  is  equal 


THE   RAVEN  SWING  371 

to  them  all.  She  has  the  graces,  sir,  of  a  Venus  with 
the  mind  of  a  muse.  She  is  a  siren,  sir,  without  the  dan- 
gerous qualities  of  one.  She  is  hallowed,  sir,  by  her 
misfortunes  as  by  her  genius ;  and  I  am  proud  to  think 
that  my  instructions  have  ])een  the  means  of  developing 
the  wondrous  qualities  that  were  latent  within  her  until 

now." 

"  You  don't  say  so !  "  says  gobemouche  Fitz-Urse. 

Having  thus  indoctrinated  ^Mr.  Fitz-Urse,  Sir  George 
takes  another  of  his  guests,  and  proceeds  to  work  upon 
him,  "  ^ly  dear  ]Mr.  Bludyer,  how  do  you  do?    Mr.  Fitz- 
Boodle,   INIr.  Bludyer,  the  brilliant  and  accomplished 
wit,  whose  sallies  in  the  Tomahawk  delight  us  every  Sat- 
urday.   Nay,   no  blushes   my   dear  sir;   you   are   very 
wicked,  but  oh!  so  pleasant.    Well,  Mr.  Bludyer,  I  am 
glad  to  see  you,  sir,  and  hope  you  will  have  a  favourable 
opinion  of  our  genius,  sir.    As  I  was  saying  to  INIr.  Fitz- 
Boodle,  she  has  the  graces  of  a  Venus  with  the  mind  of 
a  muse.     She  is  a  siren,  without  the  dangerous  qualities 
of  one,"  &c.    This  little  speech  was  made  to  half-a-dozen 
persons  in  the  course  of  the  evening— persons,  for  the 
most  part,  connected  with  the  public  journals  or  the 
theatrical  world.     There  was  Mr.  Squinny,  the  editor 
of  the  Flowers  of  Fashion;  Mr.  Desmond  IVIulligan,  the 
poet,  and  reporter  for  a  morning  paper ;  and  other  wor- 
thies of  their  calling.     For  though  Sir  George  is  a  re- 
spectable man,  and  as  high-minded  and  moral  an  old 
gentleman  as  ever  wore  knee-buckles,  he  does  not  neglect 
the  little  arts  of  popularity,  and  can  condescend  to  re- 
ceive very  queer  company  if  need  be. 

For  instance,  at  tlie  dinner-party  at  wliich  T  had  the 
honour  of  assisting,  and  at  wliicli,  on  tlie  right  hand  of 
Lady    Thrum,    sat    tlie    oblige    nobleman,    whom    the 


372  MEN'S  WIVES 

Thrums  were  a  great  deal  too  wise  to  omit  (the  sight  of 
a  lord  does  good  to  us  commoners,  or  why  else  should 
we  be  so  anxious  to  have  one?) .  In  the  second  place  of 
honour,  and  on  her  ladyship's  left  hand,  sat  Mr.  Slang, 
the  manager  of  one  of  the  theatres;  a  gentleman  whom 
my  Lady  Thrum  would  scarcely,  but  for  a  great  neces- 
sity's sake,  have  been  induced  to  invite  to  her  table.  He 
had  the  honour  of  leading  Mrs.  Walker  to  dinner,  who 
looked  splendid  in  black  velvet  and  turban,  full  of  health 
and  smiles. 

Lord  Roundtowers  is  an  old  gentleman  who  has  been 
at  the  theatres  five  times  a  week  for  these  fifty  years,  a 
living  dictionary  of  the  stage,  recollecting  every  actor 
and  actress  who  has  appeared  upon  it  for  half  a  century. 
He  perfectly  well  remembered  JNIiss  Delancy  in  Mor- 
giana;  he  knew  what  had  become  of  Ali  Baba,  and  how 
Cassim  had  left  the  stage,  and  was  now  the  keeper  of  a 
public-house.  All  this  store  of  knowledge  he  kept 
quietly  to  himself,  or  only  delivered  in  confidence  to  his 
next  neighbour  in  the  intervals  of  the  banquet,  which  he 
enjoys  prodigiously.  He  lives  at  an  hotel:  if  not  invited 
to  dine,  eats  a  mutton-chop  very  humbly  at  his  club,  and 
finishes  his  evening  after  the  play  at  Crockf ord's,  whither 
he  goes  not  for  the  sake  of  the  play  but  of  the  supper 
there.  He  is  described  in  the  Court  Guide  as  of  "  Sim- 
mer's Hotel,"  and  of  Roundtowers,  county  Cork.  It  is 
said  that  the  round  towers  really  exist.  But  he  has  not 
been  in  Ireland  since  the  rebellion;  and  his  property  is 
so  hampered  with  ancestral  mortgages,  and  rent-charges, 
and  annuities,  that  his  income  is  barely  sufficient  to  pro- 
vide the  modest  mutton-chop  before  alluded  to.  He  has, 
any  time  these  fifty  5^ears,  lived  in  the  wickedest  com- 
pany in  London,  and  is,  withal,  as  harmless,  mild,  good- 


THE   RAVENSWING  373 

natured,  innocent  an  old  gentleman  as  can  readily  be 
seen. 

"  Roundy,"  shouts  the  elegant  Mr.  Slang,  across  the 
table,  with  a  voice  which  makes  Lady  Thrum  shudder, 
"  Tuff,  a  glass  of  wine." 

]My  lord  replies  meekly,  "  ^Ir.  Slang,  I  shall  have  very 
much  pleasure.    What  shall  it  be?  " 

"  There  is  INIadeira  near  you,  my  lord,"  says  my  lady, 
pointing  to  a  tall  thin  decanter  of  the  fashion  of  the 
year. 

"  Madeira!  Marsala,  by  Jove,  your  ladyship  means!  " 
shouts  Mr.  Slang.  "  No,  no,  old  birds  are  not  caught 
with  chaiF.  Thrum,  old  boy,  let's  have  some  of  your 
comet-hock." 

"  My  Lady  Thrum,  I  believe  that  is  Marsala,"  says 
the  knight,  blushing  a  little,  in  reply  to  a  question  from 
his  Sophia.    "  Ajax,  the  hock  to  Mr.  Slang." 

"  I'm  in  that,"  yells  Bludyer  from  the  end  of  the 
table.    "  My  lord,  I'll  join  you." 

"  Mr. ,  I  beg  your  pardon — I  shall  be  very  happy 

to  take  wine  with  you,  sir." 

"  It  is  Mr.  Bludyer,  the  celebrated  newspaper  writer," 
whispers  Lady  Thrum. 

"  Bludyer,  Bludyer?  A  very  clever  man,  I  dare  say. 
He  has  a  very  loud  voice,  and  reminds  me  of  Brett.  Does 
your  ladyship  remember  Brett,  who  played  the 
'  Fathers  '  at  the  Haymarket  in  1802?  " 

"What  an  old  stupid  Roundtowers  is!"  says  Slang, 
archly,  nudging  Mrs.  Walker  in  the  side.  "  How's 
Walker,  eh? " 

"  My  husband  is  in  the  country,"  replied  Mrs.  Walker 
hesitatingly. 

"  Gammon!    I  know  where  he  is!    Law  bless  you! — 


374  MEN'S  WIVES 

don't  blush.  I've  been  there  myself  a  dozen  times.  We 
were  talking  about  quod,  Lady  Thrum.  Were  you  ever 
in  college?  " 

"  I  was  at  the  Commemoration  at  Oxford  in  1814, 
when  the  sovereigns  were  there,  and  at  Cambridge  when 
Sir  George  received  his  degree  of  Doctor  of  Music." 

"  Laud,  Laud,  that's  not  the  college  we  mean." 

"  There  is  also  the  college  in  Gower  Street,  where  my 
grandson — " 

"  This  is  the  college  in  Queer  Street,  ma'am,  haw, 
haw  I  Mulligan,  you  divvle  (in  an  Irish  accent) ,  a  glass 
of  wine  with  you.  Wine,  here,  you  waiter!  What's 
your  name,  you  black  nigger?  'Possum  up  a  gum-tree, 
eh?  Fill  him  up.  Dere  he  go"  (imitating  the  Man- 
dingo  manner  of  speaking  English) . 

In  this  agreeable  way  would  Mr.  Slang  rattle  on, 
speedily  making  himself  the  centre  of  the  conversation, 
and  addressing  graceful  familiarities  to  all  the  gentle- 
men and  ladies  round  him. 

It  was  good  to  see  how  the  little  knight,  the  most  moral 
and  calm  of  men,  was  compelled  to  receive  Mr.  Slang's 
stories,  and  the  frightened  air  with  which,  at  the  conclu- 
sion of  one  of  them,  he  would  venture  upon  a  commen- 
datory grin.  His  lady,  on  her  part,  too,  had  been  labori- 
ously civil;  and,  on  the  occasion  on  which  I  had  the 
honour  of  meeting  this  gentleman  and  Mrs.  Walker,  it 
was  the  latter  who  gave  the  signal  for  withdrawing  to  the 
lady  of  the  house,  by  saying,  "  I  think,  Lady  Thrum,  it 
is  quite  time  for  us  to  retire."  Some  exquisite  joke  of 
Mr.  Slang's  was  the  cause  of  this  abrupt  disappearance. 
But,  as  they  went  upstairs  to  the  drawing-room.  Lady 
Thrum  took  occasion  to  say,  "  My  dear,  in  the  course  of 
your  profession  you  will  have  to  submit  to  many  such 


THE   RAVENSWING  375 

familiarities  on  the  part  of  persons  of  low  breeding,  such 
as  I  fear  ]Mr.  Slang  is.  But  let  me  caution  you  against 
giving  way  to  your  temper  as  you  did.  Did  you  not  per- 
ceive that  I  never  allowed  him  to  see  my  inward  dissatis- 
faction? And  I  make  it  a  particular  point  that  you 
should  be  very  civil  to  him  to-night.  Your  interests— 
our  interests — depend  upon  it." 

"  And  are  my  interests  to  make  me  civil  to  a  wretch 
like  that?" 

"  Mrs.  Walker,  would  you  wish  to  give  lessons  in  mor- 
ality and  behaviour  to  Lady  Thrum?  "  said  the  old  lady, 
drawing  herself  up  with  great  dignity.  It  was  evident 
that  she  had  a  very  strong  desire  indeed  to  conciliate  ]\Ir. 
Slang;  and  hence  I  have  no  doubt  that  Sir  George  was 
to  have  a  considerable  share  of  jMorgiana's  earnings. 

Mr.  Bludyer,  the  famous  editor  of  the  Tomahawk, 
whose  jokes  Sir  George  pretended  to  admire  so  much 
(Sir  George  who  never  made  a  joke  in  his  life),  was  a 
press  bravo  of  considerable  talent  and  no  principle,  and 
who,  to  use  his  own  words,  would  "  back  himself  for  a 
slashing  article  against  any  man  in  England!"  He 
would  not  only  write,  but  fight  on  a  pinch;  was  a  good 
scholar,  and  as  savage  in  his  manner  as  with  his  pen. 
Mr.  Squinny  is  of  exactly  the  opposite  school,  as  delicate 
as  milk  and  water,  harmless  in  his  habits,  fond  of  the 
flute  when  the  state  of  his  chest  will  allow  him,  a  great 
practiser  of  waltzing  and  dancing  in  general,  and  in  his 
journal  mildly  malicious.  He  never  goes  beyond  the 
bounds  of  politeness,  but  manages  to  insinuate  a  great 
deal  that  is  disagreeable  to  an  author  in  the  course  of 
twenty  lines  of  criticism.  Personally  he  is  quite  respec- 
table, and  lives  with  two  maiden  aunts  at  Bromi)t()n. 
Nobody,  on  the  contrary,  knows  where  Mr.   Bludyer 


376  MEN'S  WIVES 

lives.  He  has  houses  of  call,  mysterious  taverns  where  he 
may  be  found  at  particular  hours  by  those  who  need  him, 
and  where  panting  publishers  are  in  the  habit  of  hunt- 
ing him  up.  For  a  bottle  of  wine  and  a  guinea  he  will 
write  a  page  of  praise  or  abuse  of  any  man  living,  or  on 
any  subject,  or  on  any  line  of  politics.  "  Hang  it,  sir," 
says  he,  "  pay  me  enough  and  I  will  write  down  my  own 
father!"  According  to  the  state  of  his  credit,  he  is 
dressed  either  almost  in  rags  or  else  in  the  extremest 
flush  of  fashion.  With  the  latter  attire  he  puts  on  a 
haughty  and  aristocratic  air,  and  would  slap  a  duke  on 
the  shoulder.  If  there  is  one  thing  more  dangerous  than 
to  refuse  to  lend  him  a  sum  of  money  when  he  asks  for 
it,  it  is  to  lend  it  to  him ;  for  he  never  pays,  and  never  par- 
dons a  man  to  whom  he  owes.  "  Walker  refused  to  cash 
a  bill  for  me,"  he  had  been  heard  to  say,  "  and  I'll  do  for 
his  wife  when  she  comes  out  on  the  stage!"  Mrs. 
Walker  and  Sir  George  Thrum  were  in  an  agony  about 
the  Tomahawk;  hence  the  latter's  invitation  to  Mr.  Blud- 
yer.  Sir  George  was  in  a  great  tremor  about  the  Flowers 
of  Fashion,  hence  his  invitation  to  Mr.  Squinny.  Mr. 
Squinny  was  introduced  to  Lord  Roundtowers  and  Mr. 
Fitz-Urse  as  one  of  the  most  delightful  and  talented  of 
our  young  men  of  genius ;  and  Fitz,  who  believes  every- 
thing any  one  tells  him,  was  quite  pleased  to  have  the 
honour  of  sitting  near  the  live  editor  of  a  paper.  I  have 
reason  to  think  that  Mr.  Squinny  himself  was  no  less  de- 
lighted: I  saw  him  giving  his  card  to  Fitz-Urse  at  the 
end  of  the  second  course. 

No  particular  attention  was  paid  to  Mr.  Desmond 
Mulligan.  Political  enthusiasm  is  his  forte.  He  lives 
and  writes  in  a  rapture.  He  is,  of  course,  a  member  of 
an  inn  of  court,  and  greatly  addicted  to  after-dinner 


THE   RAVEN  SWING  377 

speaking  as  a  preparation  for  the  bar,  where  as  a  young 
man  of  genius  he  hopes  one  day  to  shine.  He  is  almost 
the  only  man  to  whom  Bludyer  is  civil,  for,  if  the  latter 
will  fight  doggedly  when  there  is  a  necessity  for  so  doing, 
the  former  fights  like  an  Irishman,  and  has  a  pleasure  in 
it.  He  has  been  "  on  the  ground  "  I  don't  know  how 
many  times,  and  quitted  his  country  on  account  of  a 
quarrel  with  Government  regarding  certain  articles  pub- 
lished by  him  in  the  Phoenix  newspaper.  With  the  third 
bottle,  he  becomes  overpoweringly  great  on  the  wrongs 
of  Ireland,  and  at  that  period  generally  volunteers  a 
couple  or  more  of  Irish  melodies,  selecting  the  most  mel- 
ancholy in  the  collection.  At  five  in  the  afternoon,  you 
are  sure  to  see  him  about  the  House  of  Commons,  and  he 
knows  the  "  Reform  Club  "  (he  calls  it  the  Refawrum) 
as  well  as  if  he  were  a  member.  It  is  curious  for  the  con- 
templative mind  to  mark  those  mysterious  hangers-on  of 
Irish  members  of  parliament— strange  runners  and 
aides-de-camp  which  all  the  honourable  gentlemen  ap- 
pear to  possess.  Desmond,  in  his  political  capacity,  is 
one  of  these,  and  besides  his  calling  as  reporter  to  a  news- 
paper, is  "  our  well-informed  correspondent  "  of  that 
famous  Munster  paper,  the  Green  Flag  of  Skibhereen. 

With  Mr.  ^lulligan's  qualities  and  history  I  only  be- 
came subsequently  acquainted.  On  the  present  evening 
he  made  but  a  brief  stay  at  the  dinner-table,  being  com- 
pelled by  his  professional  duties  to  attend  the  House  of 
Commons. 

The  above  formed  the  party  with  whom  I  had  the 
honour  to  dine.  What  other  repasts  Sir  George  Thrum 
may  have  given,  what  assemblies  of  men  of  mere  science 
he  may  have  invited  to  give  their  opinion  regarding  his 
prodigy,  what  other  editors  of  papers  he  may  have  paci- 


378  MEN'S  WIVES 

fied  or  rendered  favourable,  who  knows?  On  the  present 
occasion,  we  did  not  quit  the  dinner-table  until  Mr.  Slang 
the  manager  was  considerably  excited  by  wine,  and 
music  had  been  heard  for  some  time  in  the  drawing-room 
overhead  during  our  absence.  An  addition  had  been 
made  to  the  Thrum  party  by  the  arrival  of  several  per- 
sons to  spend  the  evening, — a  man  to  play  on  the  violin 
between  the  singing,  a  youth  to  play  on  the  piano.  Miss 
Horsman  to  sing  with  Mrs.  Walker,  and  other  scientific 
characters.  In  a  corner  sat  a  red-faced  old  lady,  of 
whom  the  mistress  of  the  mansion  took  little  notice ;  and 
a  gentleman  with  a  royal  button,  who  blushed  and  looked 
exceedingly  modest. 

"Hang  me!"  says  ]Mr.  Bludyer,  who  had  perfectly 
good  reasons  for  recognising  Mr.  Woolsey,  and  who  on 
this  day  chose  to  assume  his  aristocratic  air;  "  there's  a 
tailor  in  the  room !  What  do  they  mean  by  asking  me  to 
meet  tradesmen?  " 

"  Delancy,  my  dear,"  cries  Slang,  entering  the  room 
with  a  reel,  "  how's  your  precious  health?  Give  us  your 
hand !  When  are  we  to  be  married  ?  Make  room  for  me 
on  the  sofa,  that's  a  duck!  " 

"  Get  along,  Slang,"  says  ]Mrs.  Crump,  addressed  by 
the  manager  by  her  maiden  name  ( artists  generally  drop 
the  title  of  honour  which  people  adopt  in  the  world,  and 
call  each  other  by  their  simple  surnames)  — "  get  along. 
Slang,  or  I'll  tell  Mrs.  S.l  "  The  enterprising  manager 
replies  by  sportively  striking  ]Mrs.  Crump  on  the  side  a 
blow  which  causes  a  great  giggle  from  the  lady  insulted, 
and  a  most  good-humoured  threat  to  box  Slang's  ears. 
I  fear  very  much  that  ]\Iorgiana's  mother  thought  INIr. 
Slang  an  exceedingly  gentlemanlike  and  agreeable  per- 


THE   RAVENSWING  379 

son;  besides,  she  was  eager  to  have  his  good  opinion  of 
Mrs.  Walker's  singing. 

The  manager  stretched  himself  out  with  much  grace- 
fulness on  the  sofa,  supporting  two  little  dumpy  legs 
encased  in  varnished  boots  on  a  chair. 

"  Ajax,  some  tea  to  Mr.  Slang,"  said  my  lady,  look- 
ing towards  that  gentleman  with  a  countenance  expres- 
sive of  some  alarm,  I  thought. 

"That's  right,  Ajax,  my  black  prince!"  exclaimed 
Slang,  when  the  negro  brought  the  required  refresh- 
ment; "  and  now  I  suppose  you'll  be  wanted  in  the  or- 
chestra yonder.  Don't  Ajax  play  the  cymbals.  Sir 
George?  " 

"Ha,  ha,  ha!  very  good— capital! "  answered  the 
knight,  exceedingly  frightened;  "  but  ours  is  not  a  7nili- 
tary  band.  Miss  Horsman,  Mr.  Craw,  my  dear  INIrs. 
Ravenswing,  shall  we  begin  the  trio?  Silence,  gentle- 
men, if  you  please,  it  is  a  little  piece  from  my  opera  of 
the  '  Brigand's  Bride.'  Miss  Horsman  takes  the  Page's 
part,  Mr.  Craw  is  Stiletto  the  Brigand,  my  accomphshed 
pupil  is  the  Bride;  "  and  the  music  began. 

"  The  Bride. 
"  My  heart  with  joy  is  beating, 
My  eyes  with  tears  arc  dim ; 

"  The  Page. 
"  Her  heart  with  joy  is  boating. 
Her  eyes  are  fixed  on  liini; 

"  The  Brigand. 
"  My  heart  with  rage  is  beating. 
In  blood  my  eye-balls  swim !  " 


ago  MEN'S  WIVES 

What  may  have  been  the  merits  of  the  music  or  the 
singing,  I,  of  course,  cannot  guess.  Lady  Thrum  sat 
opposite  the  tea-cups,  nodding  her  head  and  beating 
time  very  gravely.  Lord  Roundtowers,  by  her  side, 
nodded  his  head  too,  for  awhile,  and  then  fell  asleep.  I 
should  have  done  the  same  but  for  the  manager,  whose 
actions  were  worthy  of  remark.  He  sang  with  all  the 
three  singers,  and  a  great  deal  louder  than  any  of  them ; 
he  shouted  bravo !  or  hissed  as  he  thought  proper ;  he  criti- 
cised all  the  points  of  Mrs.  Walker's  person.  "  She'll  do. 
Crump,  she'll  do— a  splendid  arm— you'll  see  her  eyes  in 
the  shilling  gallery !  What  sort  of  a  foot  has  she?  She's 
five  feet  three,  if  she's  an  inch!  Bravo— slap  up— capi- 
tal—hurra!"  and  he  concluded  by  saying,  with  the  aid 
of  the  Ravenswing,  he  would  put  Ligonier's  nose  out  of 
joint! 

The  enthusiasm  of  Mr.  Slang  almost  reconciled  Lady 
Thrum  to  the  abruptness  of  his  manners,  and  even  caused 
Sir  George  to  forget  that  his  chorus  had  been  inter- 
rupted by  the  obstreperous  familiarity  of  the  manager. 

"And  what  do  you  think,  Mr.  Bludyer,"  said  the 
tailor,  delighted  that  his  protegee  should  be  thus  winning 
all  hearts,  "  isn't  Mrs.  Walker  a  tip-top  singer,  eh,  sir?  " 

"  I  think  she's  a  very  bad  one,  Mr.  Woolsey :  "  said 
the  illustrious  author,  wishing  to  abbreviate  all  commu- 
nications with  a  tailor  to  whom  he  owed  forty  pounds. 

"  Then,  sir,"  says  Mr.  Woolsey,  fiercely,  "  I'll— I'll 
thank  you  to  pay  me  my  little  bill!  " 

It  is  true  there  was  no  connection  between  Mrs.  Walk- 
er's singing  and  Woolsey's  little  bill ;  that  the  ''  Then, 
sir,"  was  perfectly  illogical  on  Woolsey's  part;  but  it  was 
a  very  happy  hit  for  the  future  fortunes  of  Mrs.  Walker. 
Who  knows  what  would  have  come  of  her  debut  but  for 


THE   RAVENSWING  381 

that  "  Then,  sir,"  and  whether  a  "  smashing  article  " 
from  the  Tojiiahaick  might  not  have  ruined  her  for  ever? 

"Are  you  a  relation  of  Mrs.  Walker's?"  said  Mr. 
Bludyer,  in  reply  to  the  angry  tailor. 

"  What's  that  to  you,  whether  I  am  or  not? "  replied 
Woolsey,  fiercely.  "But  I'm  the  friend  of  x>Irs.  Walker, 
sir;  proud  am  I  to  say  so,  sir;  and,  as  the  poet  says,  sir, 
'  a  little  learning's  a  dangerous  thing,'  sir ;  and  I  think  a 
man  who  don't  pay  his  bills  may  keep  his  tongue  quiet  at 
least,  sir,  and  not  abuse  a  lady,  sir,  whom  everybody  else 
praises,  sir.  You  shan't  humbug  me  any  more,  sir;  j^ou 
shall  hear  from  my  attorney  to-morrow,  so  mark  that!  " 

"  Hush,  my  dear  Mr.  Woolsey,"  cried  the  literary 
man,  "don't  make  a  noise;  come  into  this  window:  is 
jNIrs.  Walker  really  a  friend  of  yours?  " 

"  I've  told  you  so,  sir." 

"  Well,  in  that  case,  I  shall  do  my  utmost  to  serve  her; 
and,  look  you,  Woolsey,  any  article  you  choose  to  send 
about  her  to  the  Tomahawk  I  promise  you  I'll  put  in.'' 

"^  Will  you,  though?  then  we'll  say  nothing  about  the 
little  bill." 

"  You  may  do  on  that  point,"  answered  Bludyer, 
haughtily,  "  exactly  as  you  please.  I  am  not  to  be 
frightened  from  my  duty,  mind  that ;  and  mind,  too,  that 
I  can  write  a  slashing  article  better  than  any  man  in 
England:  I  could  crush  her  by  ten  lines." 

The  tables  were  now  turned,  and  it  was  Woolsey's 
turn  to  be  alarmed. 

"Pooh!  pooh!  I  teas  angry,"  said  he,  "because  you 
abused  Mrs.  Walker,  who's  an  angel  on  earth;  but  I'm 
very  willing  to  apologise.  I  say — come — let  me  take 
your  measure  for  some  new  clothes,  eh!  ^Ir.  B.?  " 

"  I'll  come  to  your  shop,"  answered  the  literary  man. 


382  MEN'S  WIVES 

quite  appeased.  "  Silence!  they're  beginning  another 
song." 

The  songs,  which  I  don't  attempt  to  describe  (and, 
upon  my  word  and  honour,  as  far  as  I  can  understand 
matters,  I  beheve  to  this  day  that  INIrs.  Walker  was  only 
an  ordinary  singer), — the  songs  lasted  a  great  deal 
longer  than  I  liked ;  but  I  was  nailed,  as  it  were,  to  the 
spot,  having  agreed  to  sup  at  Knightsbridge  barracks 
with  Fitz-Urse,  whose  carriage  was  ordered  at  eleven 
o'clock. 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Fitz-Boodle,"  said  our  old  host  to  me, 
"  you  can  do  me  the  greatest  service  in  the  world." 

"  Speak,  sir!  "  said  I. 

"  Will  you  ask  your  honourable  and  gallant  friend, 
the  Captain,  to  drive  home  Mr.  Squinny  to  Brompton?  " 

"  Can't  Mr.  Squinny  get  a  cab?  " 

Sir  George  looked  particularly  arch.  "  Generalship, 
my  dear  young  friend, — a  little  harmless  generalship. 
Mr.  Squinny  will  not  give  much  for  my  opinion  of  my 
pupil,  but  he  will  value  very  highly  the  opinion  of  the 
Honourable  Mr.  Fitz-Urse." 

For  a  moral  man,  was  not  the  little  knight  a  clever 
fellow?  He  had  bought  Mr.  Squinny  for  a  dinner  worth 
ten  shillings,  and  for  a  ride  in  a  carriage  with  a  lord's 
son.  Squinny  was  carried  to  Brompton,  and  set  down  at 
his  aunt's  door,  delighted  with  his  new  friends,  and  ex- 
ceedingly sick  with  a  cigar  they  had  made  him  smoke. 


THE   RAVENSWING  383 


CHAPTER  VIII 

IN    WHICH    MR.    WALKER    SHOWS    GREAT    PRUDENCE    AND 
FORBEARANCE 

THE  describing  of  all  these  persons  does  not  advance 
]\Iorgiana's  story  much.  But,  perhaps,  some  coun- 
try readers  are  not  acquainted  with  the  class  of  persons 
by  whose  printed  opinions  they  are  guided,  and  are  sim- 
ple enough  to  imagine  that  mere  merit  will  make  a  repu- 
tation on  the  stage  or  elsewhere.  The  making  of  a  the- 
atrical success  is  a  much  more  complicated  and  curious 
thing  than  such  persons  fancy  it  to  be.  Immense  are  the 
pains  taken  to  get  a  good  word  from  Mr.  This  of  the 
Star,  or  Mr.  That  of  the  Courier,  to  propitiate  the  favour 
of  the  critic  of  the  day,  and  get  the  editors  of  the  me- 
tropolis into  a  good  humour, — above  all,  to  have  the 
name  of  the  person  to  be  puffed  perpetually  before  the 
public.  Artists  cannot  be  advertised  like  Macassar  oil 
or  blacking,  and  they  want  it  to  the  full  as  much ;  hence 
endless  ingenuity  must  be  practised  in  order  to  keep  the 
popular  attention  awake.  Suppose  a  great  actor  moves 
from  London  to  Windsor,  the  Brentford  Champion 
must  state,  that  "  Yesterday  Mr.  Blazes  and  suite  passed 
rapidly  through  our  city;  the  celebrated  comedian  is  en- 
gaged, we  hear,  at  Windsor,  to  give  some  of  his  inimi- 
table readings  of  our  great  national  bard  to  the  moHt 
illustrious  audience  in  the  realm."  This  piece  of  intelli- 
gence the  II ammersmitli  Observer  will  question  the  next 
week,  as  thus:  — "A  contemporary,  the  Brentford  Cham- 
pion, says  that  Blazes  is  engaged  to  give  Sliaks])erean 
readings  at  Windsor  to  '  the  most  illustrious  audience  in 


384  MEN'S   WIVES 

the  realm.'  We  question  this  fact  very  much.  We 
would,  indeed,  that  it  were  true ;  but  the  most  illustrious 
audience  in  the  realm  prefer  foreign  melodies  to  the  na- 
tive wood-notes  wild  of  the  sweet  song-bird  of  Avon. 
Mr.  Blazes  is  simply  gone  to  Eton,  where  his  son,  Mas- 
ter Massinger  Blazes,  is  suffering,  we  regret  to  hear, 
under  a  severe  attack  of  the  chicken-pox.  This  com- 
plaint (incident  to  youth)  has  raged,  we  understand, 
with  frightful  virulence  in  Eton  School." 

And  if,  after  the  above  paragraphs,  some  London 
paper  chooses  to  attack  the  folly  of  the  provincial  press, 
which  talks  of  JNIr.  Blazes,  and  chronicles  his  movements, 
as  if  he  were  a  crowned  head,  what  harm  is  done?  Blazes 
can  write  in  his  own  name  to  the  London  journal  and 
say  that  it  is  not  his  fault  if  provincial  journals  choose  to 
chronicle  his  movements,  and  tliat  he  was  far  from  wish- 
ing- that  the  afflictions  of  those  who  are  dear  to  him 
should  form  the  subject  of  public  comment,  and  be  held 
up  to  public  ridicule.  "  We  had  no  intention  of  hurting 
the  feelings  of  an  estimable  public  servant,"  writes  the 
editor;  "  and  our  remarks  on  the  chicken-pox  were  gen- 
eral, not  personal.  We  sincerely  trust  that  Master  Mas- 
singer  Blazes  has  recovered  from  that  complaint,  and 
that  he  may  pass  through  the  measles,  the  whooping- 
cough,  the  fourth  form,  and  all  other  diseases  to  which 
youth  is  subject,  with  comfort  to  himself,  and  credit  to 
his  parents  and  teachers."  At  his  next  ajjpearance  on 
the  stage  after  this  controversy,  a  British  public  calls  for 
Blazes  three  times  after  the  play;  and  somehow  there  is 
sure  to  be  some  one  with  a  laurel-wreath  in  a  stage-box, 
who  flings  that  chaplet  at  the  inspired  artist's  feet. 

I  don't  know^  how  it  was,  but  before  the  debut  of  JNIor- 
giana,  the  English  press  began  to  heave  and  throb  in  a 


THE   RAVENSWING  385 

convulsive  manner,  as  if  indicative  of  the  near  birth  of 
some  great  thing.  For  instance,  you  read  in  one  paper,— 

"  Anecdote  of  Karl  Maria  Von  TF^b^r.— When  the  author  of 
Oberon  was  in  England,  he  was  invited  by  a  noble  duke  to  dinner, 
and  some  of  the  most  celebrated  of  our  artists  were  assembled  to 
meet  him.  The  signal  being  given  to  descend  to  the  salle-a- 
manger,  the  German  composer  was  invited  by  his  noble  host  (a 
bachelor)  to  lead  the  way.  '  Is  it  not  the  fashion  in  your  coun- 
try,' said  he,  simply,  '  for  the  man  of  the  first  eminence  to  take 
the  first  place?  Here  is  one  whose  genius  entitles  him  to  be  first 
anywhere.'  And,  so  saying,  he  pointed  to  our  admirable  Eng- 
lish composer.  Sir  George  Thrum.  The  two  musicians  were 
friends  to  the  last,  and  Sir  George  has  still  the  identical  piece  of 
rosin  which  the  author  of  the  Freischutz  gave  him."— T/i^  Moon 
(morning  paper),  2d  June. 

"  George  III.  a  composer.  — Sir  George  Thrum  has  in  his  pos- 
session the  score  of  an  air,  the  words  from  Samson  Agonistes,  an 
autograph  of  the  late  revered  monarch.  We  hear  that  that  ex- 
cellent composer  has  in  store  for  us  not  only  an  opera,  but  a  pupil, 
with  whose  transcendent  merits  the  elite  of  our  aristocracy  are 
already  famihar."— /bid.  June  5. 

"  Music  with  a  Vengeance.— The  march  to  the  sound  of  which 
the  49th  and  75th  regiments  rushed  up  the  breach  of  Badajoz 
was  the  celebrated  air  from  Britons  Alarmed;  or,  the  Siege  of 
Bergen-op-Zoom,  by  our  famous  English  composer.  Sir  George 
Thrum.  Marshal  Davoust  said  that  the  French  line  never  stood 
when  that  air  was  performed  to  the  charge  of  the  bayonet.  We 
hear  the  veteran  nuisician  has  an  opera  now  about  to  appear,  and 
have  no  doubt  that  Old  England  will  now,  as  then,  show  its  su- 
periority over  all  foreign  opponents."  — ^ilbiow. 

"  We  have  been  accused  of  preferring  the  produit  of  the  Stran- 
ger to  the  talent  of  our  own  native  shores ;  but  those  who  speak  so, 


386  MEN'S   WIVES 

little  know  us.  We  are  fanatici  per  la  musica  wherever  it  be, 
and  welcome  merit  dans  chaque  pays  clu  monde.  What  do  we 
sa}'?  Le  merite  na  point  de  pays,  as  Napoleon  said;  and  Sir 
George  Thrum  (Chevalier  de  I'ordre  de  I'Elephant  et  Chateau, 
de  Panama)  is  a  maestro  whose  fame  appartient  a  V Europe. 

"  We  have  just  heard  the  lovely  eleve,  whose  rare  qualities  the 
cavaliere  has  brought  to  perfection, — we  have  heard  The  Ra- 
vENSwixG  {pourquoi  cacher  un  nom  que  demain  un  monde  va 
saluer),  and  a  creature  more  beautiful  and  gifted  never  bloomed 
before  dans  nos  climats.  She  sang  the  delicious  duet  of  the 
'  Nabucodonosore,'  with  Count  Pizzicato,  with  a  hellezza,  a 
grandezza,  a  raggio,  that  excited  in  the  bosom  of  the  audience 
a  corresponding  furore:  her  scherzando  was  exquisite,  though 
we  confess  we  thought  the  concluding  fioritura  in  the  passage  in 
y  flat  a  leetle,  a  very  leetle  sforzata.     Surely  the  words, 

'  Giorno  d'orrore, 
Delire,  dolore, 
Nabucodonosore,' 

should  be  given  andante,  and  not  con  strep'ito:  but  this  is  a  faute 
h'lcn  legere  in  the  midst  of  such  unrivalled  excellence,  and  only 
mentioned  here  that  we  may  have  something  to  criticise. 

"  We  hear  that  the  enterprising  impresario  of  one  of  the  royal 
theatres  has  made  an  engagement  with  the  Diva ;  and,  if  we  have 
a  regret,  it  is  that  she  should  be  compelled  to  sing  in  the  un- 
fortunate language  of  our  rude  northern  clime,  which  does  not 
prcter  itself  near  so  well  to  the  hocca  of  the  cantatrice  as  do 
the  mellifluous  accents  of  the  Lingua  Toscana,  the  langue  par 
excellence  of  song. 

"  The  Ravenswing's  voice  is  a  magnificent  contra-basso  of 
nine  octaves,"  SiC— Flowers  of  Fashion,  June  10. 

"  Old  Thrum,  the  composer,  is  bringing  out  an  opera  and  a 
pupil.  The  opera  is  good,  the  pupil  first-rate.  The  opera  will 
do  much  more  than  compete  with  the  infernal  twaddle  and  dis- 


THE   RAVENSWING  387 

gusting  slip-slop  of  Donizetti,  and  the  milk-and-water  fools 
who  imitate  him:  it  will  (and  we  ask  the  readers  of  the  Toma- 
hazvk,  were  we  ever  mistaken?)  surpass  all  these;  it  is  good, 
of  downright  English  stuff.  The  airs  are  fresh  and  pleasing, 
the  choruses  large  and  noble,  the  instrumentation  solid  and  rich, 
the  music  is  carefully  written.  We  wish  old  Thrum  and  his 
opera  well. 

"  His  pupil  is  a  sure  card,  a  splendid  woman,  and  a  splendid 
singer.  She  is  so  handsome  that  she  might  sing  as  much  out 
of  tune  as  Miss  Ligonier,  and  the  public  would  forgive  her; 
and  sings  so  well,  that  were  she  as  ugly  as  the  aforesaid  Ligonier, 
the  audience  would  listen  to  her.  The  Ravenswing,  that  is  her 
fantastical  theatrical  name  (her  real  name  is  the  same  with  that 
of  a  notorious  scoundrel  in  the  Fleet,  who  invented  the  Panama 
swindle,  the  Pontine  :Marshes'  swindle,  the  soap  swindle— /lozc) 
are  you  off  for  soap  now,  Mr.  W-lk-r?)— the  Ravenswing,  we 
say,  will  do.  Slang  has  engaged  her  at  thirty  guineas  per  week, 
and  she  appears  next  month  in  Thrum's  opera,  of  Avhich  the 
words  are  written  by  a  great  ass  with  some  talent— we  mean 
Mr.  Mulligan. 

"  There  is  a  foreign  fool  in  the  Flowers  of  Fashion  who  is 
doing  his  best  to  disgust  the  public  by  his  filthy  flattery.  It  is 
enough  to  make  one  sick.  Why  is  the  foreign  beast  not  kicked 
out  of  the  paper.?  "  —  The  Tomahawk,  June  17. 

The  three  first  "  anecdotes  "  were  supplied  by  Mulli- 
gan to  his  paper,  with  many  others  which  need  not  here 
be  repeated :  he  kept  them  up  with  amazing  energy  and 
variety.  Anecdotes  of  Sir  George  Thrum  met  you  un- 
expectedly in  queer  corners  of  country  papers:  puff's  of 
the  English  school  of  music  appeared  perpetually  in 
"  notices  to  correspondents  "  in  the  Sunday  prints,  some 
of  which  Mr.  Slang  commanded,  and  in  others  over 
which  the  indefatigable  Mulligan  had  a  control.  This 
youth  was  the  soul  of  the  little  conspiracy  for  raising 


388  MEN'S   WIVES 

Morgiana  into  fame :  and  humble  as  he  is,  and  great  and 
respectable  as  is  Sir  George  Thi-um,  it  is  my  belief  that 
the  Ravenswing  would  never  have  been  the  Ravenswing 
she  is  but  for  the  ingenuity  and  energy  of  the  honest 
Hibernian  reporter. 

It  is  only  the  business  of  the  great  man  who  writes  the 
leading  articles  which  appear  in  the  large  type  of  the 
daily  papers  to  compose  those  astonishing  pieces  of  elo- 
quence ;  the  other  parts  of  the  paper  are  left  to  the  inge- 
nuity of  the  sub-editor,  whose  duty  it  is  to  select  para- 
graphs, reject  or  receive  horrid  accidents,  police  reports, 
&c. ;  with  which,  occupied  as  he  is  in  the  exerise  of  his 
tremendous  functions,  the  editor  himself  cannot  be  ex- 
pected to  meddle.  The  fate  of  Europe  is  his  province ; 
the  rise  and  fall  of  empires,  and  the  great  questions  of 
State  demand  the  editor's  attention :  the  humble  pufF,  the 
paragraph  about  the  last  murder,  or  the  state  of  the 
crops,  or  the  sewers  in  Chancery  Lane,  is  confided  to  the 
care  of  the  sub. ;  and  it  is  curious  to  see  what  a  prodigious 
number  of  Irishmen  exist  among  the  sub-editors  of  Lon- 
don. When  the  Liberator  enumerates  the  services  of  his 
countrymen,  how  the  battle  of  Fontenoy  was  won  by  the 
Irish  Brigade,  how  the  battle  of  Waterloo  would  have 
been  lost  but  for  the  Irish  regiments,  and  enumerates 
other  acts  for  which  we  are  indebted  to  Milesian  heroism 
and  genius, — he  ought  at  least  to  mention  the  Irish  bri- 
gade of  the  press,  and  the  amazing  services  they  do  to 
this  country. 

The  truth  is,  the  Irish  reporters  and  soldiers  appear 
to  do  their  duty  right  well ;  and  my  friend  Mr.  Mulligan 
is  one  of  the  former.  Having  the  interests  of  his  opera 
and  the  Ravenswing  strongly  at  heart,  and  being 
amongst  his  brethren  an  exceedingly  popular  fellow,  he 


THE   RAVENSWING  389 

managed  matters  so  that  never  a  day  passed  but  some 
paragraph  appeared  somewhere  regarding  the  new 
singer,  in  whom,  for  their  countryman's  sake,  all  his  bro- 
thers and  sub-editors  felt  an  interest. 

These  puffs,  destined  to  make  known  to  all  the  world 
the  merits  of  the  Ravenswing,  of  course  had  an  effect 
upon  a  gentleman  very  closely  connected  with  that  lady, 
the  respectable  prisoner  in  the  Fleet,  Captain  Walker. 
As  long  as  he  received  his  weekly  two  guineas  from  Mr. 
Woolsey,  and  the  occasional  half-crowns  which  his  wife 
could  spare  in  her  almost  dailj^  visits  to  him,  he  had  never 
troubled  himself  to  inquire  what  her  pursuits  were,  and 
had  allowed  her  ( though  the  worthy  woman  longed  with 
all  her  might  to  betray  herself)  to  keep  her  secret.  He 
was  far  from  thinking,  indeed,  that  his  wife  would  prove 
such  a  treasure  to  him. 

But  when  the  voice  of  fame  and  the  columns  of  the 
public  journals  brought  him  each  day  some  new  story  re- 
garding the  merits,  genius,  and  beauty  of  the  Ravens- 
wing;  when  rumours  reached  him  that  she  was  the  fa- 
vourite pupil  of  Sir  George  Thrum;  when  she  brought 
him  five  guineas  after  singing  at  the  "  Philharmonic  " 
(other  five  the  good  soul  had  spent  in  purchasing  some 
smart  new  cockades,  hats,  cloaks,  and  laces,  for  her  little 
son)  ;  when,  finally,  it  was  said  that  Slang,  the  great 
manager,  offered  her  an  engagement  at  thirty  guineas 
per  week,  JNIr.  Walker  became  exceedingly  interested  in 
his  wife's  proceedings,  of  which  he  demanded  from  her 
the  fullest  explanation. 

Using  his  marital  authority,  he  absolutely  forbade 
Mrs.  Walker's  appearance  on  the  public  stage;  he  wrote 
to  Sir  George  Tlirum  a  letter  expressive  of  his  highest 
indignation  that  negotiations  so  important  should  ever 


390  MEN'S  WIVES 

have  been  commenced  without  his  authorisation;  and  he 
wrote  to  his  dear  Slang  (for  these  gentlemen  were  very 
intimate,  and  in  the  course  of  his  transactions  as  an  agent 
Mr.  W.  had  had  many  dealings  with  Mr.  S.)  asking  his 
dear  Slang  whether  the  latter  thought  his  friend  Walker 
would  be  so  green  as  to  allow  his  wife  to  appear  on  the 
stage,  and  he  remain  in  prison  with  all  his  debts  on  his 
head  ? 

And  it  was  a  curious  thing  now  to  behold  how  eager 
those  very  creditors  who  but  yesterday  (and  with  perfect 
correctness)  had  denounced  Mr.  Walker  as  a  swindler; 
who  had  refused  to  come  to  any  composition  with  him, 
and  had  sworn  never  to  release  him ;  how  they  on  a  sud- 
den became  quite  eager  to  come  to  an  arrangement  with 
him,  and  oiFered,  nay,  begged  and  prayed  him  to  go 
free,— only  giving  them  his  own  and  Mrs.  Walker's  ac- 
knowledgment of  their  debt,  with  a  promise  that  a  part 
of  the  lady's  salary  should  be  devoted  to  the  payment  of 
the  claim. 

"  The  lady's  salary!  "  said  Mr.  Walker,  indignantly, 
to  these  gentlemen  and  their  attorneys.  "  Do  you  sup- 
pose I  will  allow  Mrs.  Walker  to  go  on  the  stage?— do 
you  suppose  I  am  such  a  fool  as  to  sign  bills  to  the  full 
amount  of  these  claims  against  me,  when  in  a  few  months 
more  I  can  walk  out  of  prison  without  paying  a  shilling? 
Gentlemen,  you  take  Howard  Walker  for  an  idiot.  I 
like  the  Fleet,  and  rather  than  pay  I'll  stay  here  for  these 
ten  years." 

In  other  words,  it  was  the  Captain's  determination  to 
make  some  advantageous  bargain  for  himself  with  his 
creditors  and  the  gentlemen  who  were  interested  in 
bringing  forward  Mrs.  Walker  on  the  stage.  And  who 
can  say  that  in  so  determining  he  did  not  act  with  laud- 
able prudence  and  justice? 


THE  RAYENSWING  391 

"  You  do  not,  surely,  consider,  my  very  dear  sir,  that 
half  the  amount  of  Mrs.  AYalker's  salaries  is  too  much 
for  my  immense  trouble  and  pains  in  teaching  her?  " 
cried  Sir  George  Thrum  (who,  in  reply  to  Walker's 
note,  thought  it  most  prudent  to  wait  personally  on  that 
gentleman) .  "  Remember  that  I  am  the  first  master  in 
England ;  that  I  have  the  best  interest  in  England ;  that 
I  can  bring  her  out  at  the  Palace,  and  at  every  concert 
and  musical  festival  in  England;  that  I  am  obliged  to 
teach  her  every  single  note  that  she  utters;  and  that 
without  me  she  could  no  more  sing  a  song  than  her  little 
baby  could  walk  without  its  nurse." 

"  I  believe  about  half  what  you  say,"  said  Mr.  Walker. 

"  My  dear  Captain  Walker!  would  you  question  my 
integrity  ?  Who  was  it  that  made  ^Irs.  JMillington's  for- 
tune,—the  celebrated  Mrs.  ^lillington,  w^ho  has  now  got 
a  hundred  thousand  pounds?  Who  was  it  that  brought 
out  the  finest  tenor  in  Europe,  Poppleton?  Ask  the 
musical  world,  ask  those  great  artists  themselves,  and 
they  will  tell  you  they  owe  their  reputation,  their  for- 
tune, to  Sir  George  Thrum." 

"  It  is  very  likely,"  replied  the  Captain,  coolly.  "  You 
are  a  good  master,  I  dare  say.  Sir  George ;  but  I  am  not 
going  to  article  ISIrs.  Walker  to  you  foT  three  years,  and 
sign  her  articles  in  the  Fleet.  Mrs.  Walker  shan't  sing 
till  I'm  a  free  man,  that's  flat:  if  I  stay  here  till  you're 
dead  she  shan't." 

"  Gracious  powers,  sir!  "  exclaimed  Sir  George,  "  do 
you  expect  me  to  pay  your  debts?  " 

"  Yes,  old  boy,"  answered  the  Captain,  "  and  to 
give  me  something  handsome  in  hand,  too;  and  that's 
my  ultimatum:  and  so  I  wish  you  good  morning,  for 
I'm  engaged  to  play  a  match  at  tennis  below." 

This    little    interview    exceedingly    frightened    the 


392  MEN'S   WIVES 

worthy  knight,  who  went  home  to  his  lady  in  a  dehrious 
state  of  alarm  occasioned  by  the  audacity  of  Captain 
Walker. 

Mr.  Slang's  interview  with  him  was  scarcely  more 
satisfactory.  He  owed,  he  said,  four  thousand  pounds. 
His  creditors  might  be  brought  to  compound  for  five 
shillings  in  the  pound.  He  would  not  consent  to  allow 
his  wife  to  make  a  single  engagement  until  the  creditors 
were  satisfied,  and  until  he  had  a  handsome  sum  in  hand 
to  begin  the  world  with.  "  Unless  my  wife  comes  out, 
you'll  be  in  the  Gazette  yourself,  you  know  you  will. 
So  you  may  take  her  or  leave  her,  as  you  think  fit." 

"  Let  her  sing  one  night  as  a  trial,"  said  Mr.  Slang. 

"  If  she  sings  one  night,  the  creditors  will  want  their 
money  in  full,"  repHed  the  Captain.  "  I  shan't  let  her 
labour,  poor  thing,  for  the  profit  of  those  scoundrels! " 
added  the  prisoner,  with  much  feeling.  And  Slang  left 
him  with  a  much  greater  respect  for  Walker  than  he 
had  ever  before  possessed.  He  was  struck  with  the 
gallantry  of  the  man  who  could  triumj)h  over  mis- 
fortunes, nay,  make  misfortune  itself  an  engine  of  good 
luck. 

Mrs.  Walker  was  instructed  instantly  to  have  a  severe 
sore  throat.  The  journals  in  Mr.  Slang's  interest  de- 
plored this  illness  pathetically;  while  the  papers  in  the 
interest  of  the  opposition  theatre  magnified  it  with  great 
malice.  "  The  new  singer,"  said  one,  "  the  great  wonder 
which  Slang  promised  us,  is  as  hoarse  as  araven!  "  "  Dr. 
Thorax  pronounces,"  wrote  another  paper,  "  that  the 
quinsy,  which  has  suddenly  prostrated  Mrs.  Ravens- 
wing,  whose  singing  at  the  '  Philharmonic,'  previous  to 
her  appearance  at  the  *  T.  R ,'  excited  so  much  ap- 
plause, has  destroyed  the  lady's  voice  for  ever.     We 


THE   RAVENSWING  393 

luckily  need  no  other  prima  donna,  when  that  place, 
as  nightly  thousands  acknowledge,  is  held  by  Miss 
Ligonier."  The  Looker-on  said,  "  That  although  some 
well-informed  contemporaries  had  declared  jMrs.  W. 
Ravenswing's  complaint  to  be  a  quinsy,  others,  on  whose 
authority  they  could  equally  rely,  had  pronounced  it  to  be 
a  consumption.  At  all  events,  she  was  in  an  exceedingly 
dangerous  state;  from  which,  though  we  do  not  expect, 
we  heartity  trust  she  may  recover.  Opinions  differ  as 
to  the  merits  of  this  lady,  some  saying  that  she  was  alto- 
gether inferior  to  Miss  Ligonier,  while  other  connois- 
seurs declare  the  latter  lady  to  be  by  no  means  so  accom- 
plished a  person.  This  point,  we  fear,"  continued  the 
Looker-on,  "  can  never  now  be  settled;  unless,  which  we 
fear  is  improbable,  Mrs.  Ravenswing  should  ever  so 
far  recover  as  to  be  able  to  make  her  debut;  and  even 
then,  the  new  singer  will  not  have  a  fair  chance  unless 
her  voice  and  strength  shall  be  fully  restored.  This  in- 
formation, which  we  have  from  exclusive  resources,  may 
be  relied  on,"  concluded  the  Looker-on,  "  as  authentic." 

It  was  Mr.  Walker  himself,  that  artful  and  audacious 
Fleet  prisoner,  who  concocted  those  very  paragraphs 
against  his  wife's  health  which  appeared  in  the  journals 
of  the  Ligonier  party.  The  partisans  of  that  lady  were 
delighted,  the  creditors  of  Mr.  Walker  astounded,  at 
reading  them.  Even  Sir  George  Thrum  was  taken  in, 
and  came  to  the  Fleet  prison  in  considerable  alarm. 

"  Mum's  the  word,  my  good  sir!  "  said  ]\Ir.  Walker. 
"  Now  is  the  time  to  make  arrangements  with  the  cred- 
itors." 

Well,  these  arrangements  were  finally  made.  It  does 
not  matter  how  many  shillings  in  the  pound  satisfied 


394  MEN'S  WIVES 

the  rapacious  creditors  of  Morgiana's  husband.  But  it 
is  certain  that  her  voice  returned  to  her  all  of  a  sudden 
upon  the  Captain's  release.  The  papers  of  the  Mulligan 
faction  again  trumpeted  her  perfections ;  the  agreement 
with  Mr.  Slang  was  concluded;  that  with  Sir  George 
Thrum  the  great  composer  satisfactorily  arranged ;  and 
the  new  opera  underlined  in  immense  capitals  in  the  bills, 
and  put  in  rehearsal  with  immense  expenditure  on  the 
part  of  the  scene-painter  and  costumier. 

Need  we  tell  with  what  triumphant  success  the  "  Brig- 
and's Bride  "  was  received?  All  the  Irish  sub-editors  the 
next  morning  took  care  to  have  such  an  account  of  it  as 
made  Miss  Ligonier  and  Baroski  die  with  envy.  All  the 
reporters  who  could  spare  time  were  in  the  boxes  to  sup- 
port their  friend's  work.  All  the  journeymen  tailors  of 
the  establishment  of  Linsey,  Woolsey  and  Co.,  had  pit 
tickets  given  to  them,  and  applauded  with  all  their  might. 
All  Mr.  Walker's  friends  of  the  "  Regent  Club  "  lined 
the  side-boxes  with  white  kid  gloves ;  and  in  a  little  box 
by  themselves  sat  Mrs.  Crump  and  Mr.  Woolsey,  a  great 
deal  too  much  agitated  to  applaud— so  agitated,  that 
Woolsey  even  forgot  to  fling  down  the  bouquet  he  had 
brought  for  the  Ravenswing. 

But  there  was  no  lack  of  those  horticultural  orna- 
ments. The  theatre  servants  wheeled  away  a  wheelbar- 
row-full (which  were  flung  on  the  stage  the  next  night 
over  again)  ;  and  Morgiana  blushing,  panting,  weeping, 
was  led  off  by  Mr.  Poppleton,  the  eminent  tenor,  who 
had  crowned  her  with  one  of  the  most  conspicuous  of  the 
chaplets. 

Here  she  flew  to  her  husband,  and  flung  her  arms 
round  his  neck.  He  was  flirting  behind  the  side-scenes 
with  Mademoiselle  Flicflac,  who  had  been  dancing  in  the 


THE   RAVEXSWING  395 

divertissement;  and  was  probably  the  only  man  in  the 
theatre  of  those  who  witnessed  the  embrace  that  did  not 
care  for  it.  Even  Slang  was  affected,  and  said  wdth  per- 
fect sincerity  that  he  wished  he  had  been  in  Walker's 
place.  The  manager's  fortune  was  made,  at  least  for  the 
season.  He  acknowledged  so  much  to  Walker,  who  took 
a  week's  salary  for  his  wife  in  advance  that  very  night. 

There  was,  as  usual,  a  grand  supper  in  the  green-room. 
The  terrible  j\Ir.  Bludyer  appeared  in  a  new  coat  of  the 
w  ell-known  Woolsey  cut,  and  the  little  tailor  himself  and 
JNIrs.  Crump  were  not  the  least  happy  of  the  party.  But 
when  the  Ravenswing  took  Woolsey's  hand,  and  said  she 
never  would  have  been  there  but  for  him,  Mr.  Walker 
looked  very  grave,  and  hinted  to  her  that  she  must  not, 
in  her  position,  encourage  the  attentions  of  persons  in 
that  rank  of  life.  "  I  shall  pay,"  said  he,  proudly, 
"  every  farthing  that  is  owing  to  Mr.  Woolsey,  and  shall 
employ  him  for  the  future.  But  you  understand,  my 
love,  that  one  cannot  at  one's  oami  table  receive  one's 
own  tailor." 

Slang  proposed  Morgiana's  health  in  a  tremendous 
speech,  which  elicited  cheers,  and  laughter,  and  sobs,  such 
as  only  managers  have  the  art  of  drawing  from  the  the- 
atrical gentlemen  and  ladies  in  their  employ.  It  was 
observed,  especially  among  the  chorus-singers  at  the  bot- 
tom of  the  table,  that  their  emotion  was  intense.  They 
had  a  meeting  the  next  day  and  voted  a  piece  of  plate  to 
Adolphus  Slang,  Esq.,  for  his  eminent  services  in  the 
cause  of  the  drama. 

Walker  returned  thanks  for  his  lady.  That  was,  he 
said,  the  proudest  moment  of  his  life.  He  was  proud  to 
think  that  he  had  educated  her  for  the  stage,  happy  to 
think  that  his  sufferings  had  not  been  in  vain,  and  that 


390  MEN'S   WIVES 

his  exertions  in  her  behalf  were  crowned  with  full  suc- 
cess. In  her  name  and  his  own  he  thanked  the  company, 
and  sat  down,  and  was  once  more  particularly  attentive 
to  Mademoiselle  Flicflac. 

Then  came  an  oration  from  Sir  George  Thrum,  in  re- 
ply to  Slang's  toast  to  him.  It  was  very  much  to  the 
same  effect  as  the  speech  by  Walker,  the  two  gentlemen 
attributing  to  themselves  individually  the  merit  of  bring- 
ing out  Mrs.  Walker.  He  concluded  by  stating  that  he 
should  always  hold  Mrs.  Walker  as  the  daughter  of  his 
heart,  and  to  the  last  moment  of  his  life  should  love  and 
cherish  her.  It  is  certain  that  Sir  George  was  exceed- 
ingly elated  that  night,  and  would  have  been  scolded  by 
his  lady  on  his  return  home,  but  for  the  triumph  of  the 
evening. 

Mulligan's  speech  of  thanks,  as  author  of  the  "  Brig- 
and's Bride,"  was,  it  must  be  confessed,  extremely  te- 
dious. It  seemed  there  would  be  no  end  to  it;  when  he 
got  upon  the  subject  of  Ireland  especially,  which  some- 
how was  found  to  be  intimately  connected  with  the  in- 
terests of  music  and  the  theatre.  Even  the  choristers 
pooh-poohed  this  speech,  coming  though  it  did  from  the 
successful  author,  whose  songs  of  wine,  love,  and  battle, 
they  had  been  repeating  that  night. 

The  "  Brigand's  Bride  "  ran  for  many  nights.  Its 
choruses  were  tuned  on  the  organs  of  the  day.  Morgi- 
ana's  airs,  "  The  Rose  upon  my  Balcony  "  and  "  The 
Lightning  on  the  Cataract  "  (recitative  and  scena)  were 
on  everybody's  lips,  and  brought  so  many  guineas  to  Sir 
George  Thrum  that  he  was  encouraged  to  have  his  por- 
trait engraved,  which  still  may  be  seen  in  the  music- 
shops.  Not  many  persons,  I  believe,  bought  proof  im- 
pressions of  the  plate,  price  two  guineas ;  whereas,  on  the 


THE   RAVEN  SWING  397 

contrary,  all  the  young  clerks  in  banks,  and  all  the  fast 
young  men  of  the  universities,  had  pictures  of  the  Ra- 
venswing  in  their  apartments— as  Biondetta  (the  brig- 
and's bride) ,  as  Zelyma  (in  the  "Nuptials  of  Benares") , 
as  Barbareska  (in  the  "  JNIine  of  Tobolsk  "),  and  in  all 
her  famous  characters.  In  the  latter  she  disguises  her- 
self as  an  Uhlan,  in  order  to  save  her  father,  who  is  in 
prison ;  and  the  Ravenswing  looked  so  fascinating  in  this 
costume  in  pantaloons  and  yellow  boots,  that  Slang  was 
for  having  her  instantly  in  Captain  Macheath,  whence 
arose  their  quarrel. 

She  was  replaced  at  Slang's  theatre  by  Snooks,  the 
rhinoceros-tamer,  with  his  breed  of  wild  buffaloes. 
Their  success  was  immense.  Slang  gave  a  supper,  at 
which  all  the  company  burst  into  tears;  and  assembling 
in  the  green-room  next  day,  they,  as  usual,  voted  a  piece 
of  plate  to  Adolphus  Slang,  Esq.,  for  his  eminent  ser- 
vices to  the  drama. 

In  the  Captain  INIacheath  dispute  Mr.  Walker  would 
have  had  his  wife  yield ;  but  on  this  point,  and  for  once, 
she  disobeyed  her  husband  and  left  the  theatre.  And 
when  Walker  cursed  her  (according  to  his  wont)  for  her 
abominable  selfishness  and  disregard  of  his  property,  she 
burst  into  tears  and  said  she  had  spent  but  twenty  guin- 
eas on  herself  and  baby  during  the  year,  that  her  the- 
atrical dressmaker's  bills  were  yet  unpaid,  and  that  she 
had  never  asked  him  how  much  he  spent  on  that  odious 
French  figurante. 

All  this  was  true,  except  about  the  French  figurante. 
Walker,  as  the  lord  and  master,  received  all  Morgiana's 
earnings,  and  spent  them  as  a  gentleman  should.  He 
gave  very  neat  dinners  at  a  cottage  in  tlie  Regent's  Park 
(Mr.  and  Mrs.  Walker  lived  in  Green  Street,  Grosvenor 


398  MEN'S   WIVES 

Square),  he  played  a  good  deal  at  the  "  Regent;  "  but 
as  to  the  French  figurante,  it  must  be  confessed,  that 
Mrs.  Walker  was  in  a  sad  error :  that  lady  and  the  Cap- 
tain had  parted  long  ago;  it  was  Madame  Dolores  de 
Tras-os-Montes  who  inliabited  the  cottage  in  St.  John's 
Wood  now. 

But  if  some  little  errors  of  this  kind  might  be  attribu- 
table to  the  Captain,  on  the  other  hand,  when  his  wife 
was  in  the  provinces,  he  was  the  most  attentive  of  hus- 
bands ;  made  all  her  bargains,  and  received  every  shilling 
before  he  would  permit  her  to  sing  a  note.  Thus  he  pre- 
vented her  from  being  cheated,  as  a  person  of  her  easy 
temper  doubtless  would  have  been,  by  designing  mana- 
gers and  needy  concert-givers.  They  always  travelled 
with  four  horses;  and  Walker  was  adored  in  every  one 
of  the  principal  hotels  in  England.  The  waiters  flew  at 
his  bell.  The  chambermaids  were  afraid  he  was  a  sad 
naughty  man,  and  thought  his  wife  no  such  great  beauty ; 
the  landlords  preferred  him  to  any  duke.  He  never 
looked  at  their  bills,  not  he !  In  fact  his  income  was  at 
least  four  thousand  a  year  for  some  years  of  his  life. 

Master  Woolsey  Walker  was  put  to  Dr.  Wapshot's 
seminary,  whence,  after  many  disputes  on  the  doctor's 
part  as  to  getting  his  half-year's  accounts  paid,  and  after 
much  complaint  of  ill-treatment  on  the  little  boy's  side, 
he  was  withdrawn,  and  placed  under  the  care  of  the  Rev. 
Mr.  Swishtail,  at  Turnham  Green;  where  all  his  bills  are 
paid  by  his  godfather,  now  the  head  of  the  firm  of  Wool- 
sey and  Co. 

As  a  gentleman,  Mr.  Walker  still  declines  to  see  him; 
but  he  has  not,  as  far  as  I  have  heard,  paid  the  sums  of 
money  which  he  threatened  to  refund ;  and,  as  he  is  sel- 
dom at  home,  the  worthy  tailor  can  come  to  Green  Street 


THE   RAVENSWING  399 

at  his  leisure.  He  and  Mrs.  Crump,  and  JNIrs.  Walker, 
often  take  the  omnibus  to  Brentford,  and  a  cake  with 
them  to  little  Woolsey  at  school ;  to  whom  the  tailor  says 
he  will  leave  every  shilling  of  his  property. 

The  Walkers  have  no  other  children;  but  when  she 
takes  her  airing  in  the  Park  she  always  turns  away  at  the 
sight  of  a  low  phaeton,  in  which  sits  a  woman  with 
rouged  cheeks,  and  a  great  number  of  over-dressed  chil- 
dren with  a  French  bonne,  whose  name,  I  am  given  to 
understand,  is  ^ladame  Dolores  de  Tras-os-Montes. 
INIadame  de  Tras-os-Montes  always  puts  a  great  gold 
glass  to  her  eye  as  the  Ravenswing's  carriage  passes,  and 
looks  into  it  with  a  sneer.  The  two  coachmen  used  al- 
ways to  exchange  queer  winks  at  each  other  in  the  ring, 
until  Madame  de  Tras-os-^Iontes  lately  adopted  a  tre- 
mendous chasseur,  with  huge  whiskers  and  a  green  and 
gold  livery;  since  which  time  the  formerly  named  gen- 
tlemen do  not  recognize  each  other. 

The  Ravenswing's  life  is  one  of  perpetual  triumph  on 
the  stage ;  and,  as  every  one  of  the  fashionable  men  about 
town  have  been  in  love  with  her,  you  may  fancy  what  a 
pretty  character  she  has.  Lady  Thrum  would  die  sooner 
than  speak  to  that  unhappy  young  woman ;  and,  in  fact, 
the  Thrums  have  a  new  pupil,  who  is  a  siren  without  the 
dangerous  qualities  of  one,  who  has  the  person  of  a 
Venus  and  the  mind  of  a  Muse,  and  who  is  coming  out 
at  one  of  the  theatres  immediately.  Baroski  says,  "  De 
liddle  Rafenschwing  is  just  as  font  of  me  as  efFer!" 
People  are  very  shy  about  receiving  her  in  society!  and 
when  she  goes  to  sing  at  a  concert.  Miss  Prim  starts  up 
and  skurries  off  in  a  state  of  the  greatest  alarm,  lest 
"  that  person  "  should  speak  to  her. 

Walker  is  voted  a  good,  easy,  rattling,  gentlemanly 


400  MEN'S   WIVES 

fellow,  and  nobody's  enemy  but  his  own.  His  wife,  they 
say,  is  dreadfully  extravagant;  and,  indeed,  since  his 
marriage,  and,  in  spite  of  his  wife's  large  income,  he  has 
been  in  the  Bench  several  times ;  but  she  signs  some  bills 
and  he  comes  out  again,  and  is  as  gay  and  genial  as  ever. 
All  mercantile  speculations  he  has  wisely  long  since 
given  up;  he  likes  to  throw  a  main  of  an  evening,  as  I 
have  said,  and  to  take  his  couple  of  bottles  at  dinner.  On 
Friday  he  attends  at  the  theatre  for  his  wife's  salary,  and 
transacts  no  other  business  during  the  week.  He  grows 
exceedingly  stout,  dj^es  his  hair,  and  has  a  bloated  purple 
look  about  the  nose  and  cheeks,  very  different  from  that 
which  first  charmed  the  heart  of  Morgiana. 

By  the  way,  Eglantine  has  been  turned  out  of  the 
Bower  of  Bloom,  and  now  keeps  a  shop  at  Tunbridge 
Wells.  Going  down  thither  last  year  without  a  razor,  I 
asked  a  fat,  seedy  man,  lolling  in  a  faded  nankeen  jacket 
at  the  door  of  a  tawdry  little  shop  in  the  Pantiles,  to 
shave  me.  He  said  in  reply,  "  Sir,  I  do  not  practise  in 
that  branch  of  the  profession!  "  and  turned  back  into  the 
little  shop.  It  was  Archibald  Eglantine.  But  in  the 
wreck  of  his  fortunes,  he  still  has  his  captain's  uniform, 
and  his  grand  cross  of  the  order  of  the  Elephant  and 
Castle  of  Panama. 

POSTSCRIPT 

G.    riTZ-BOODLE,    ESQ.,   TO    O.    YORKE,   ESQ. 

Zum  Trterischen  Hof,  Cohlenz,  July  10,  1843. 
My  DEAR  YoRKE,— The  story  of  the  Ravenswing  was  written  a 
long  time  since,  and  I  never  coukl  account  for  the  bad  taste  of 
the  publishers  of  the  metropolis  who  refused  it  an  insertion  in 
their  various  magazines.  This  fact  would  never  have  been 
alluded  to  but  for  the  following  circumstance: — 

Only  yesterday,  as  I  was  dining  at  this  excellent  hotel,  I  re- 


THE  RAVENSWING  401 

marked  a  bald-headed  gentleman  in  a  blue  coat  and  brass  but- 
tons, who  looked  like  a  colonel  on  half-pay,  and  by  his  side  a 
lady  and  a  little  boy  of  twelve,  whom  the  gentleman  was  cram- 
ming with  an  amazing  quantity  of  cherries  and  cakes.  A  stout 
old  dame  in  a  wonderful  cap  and  ribands  was  seated  by  the  lady's 
side,  and  it  was  easy  to  see  they  were  English,  and  I  thought 
I  had  alread}^  made  their  acquaintance  elsewhere. 

The  younger  of  the  ladies  at  last  made  a  boAV  with  an  accom- 
panying blush. 

"  Surely,"  said  I,  "  I  have  the  honour  of  speaking  to  Mrs. 
Ravenswing?  " 

"  Mrs.  WooLSEY,  sir,"  said  the  gentleman ;  "  my  wife  has  long 
since  left  the  stage :  "  and  at  this  the  old  lady  in  the  wonderful 
cap  trod  on  my  toes  very  severel}',  and  nodded  her  head  and  all 
her  ribands  in  a  most  mysterious  way.  Presently  the  two  ladies 
rose  and  left  the  table,  the  elder  declaring  that  she  heard  the 
baby  crying. 

"  Woolsey  my  dear,  go  with  your  mamma,"  said  Mr.  Woolsey, 
patting  the  boy  on  the  head:  the  young  gentleman  obeyed  the 
command,  earring  off  a  plate  of  macaroons  with  him, 

"  Your  son  is  a  fine  boy,  sir,"  said  I. 

"  My  step-son,  sir,"  answered  Mr.  Woolsey ;  and  added  in  a 
louder  voice,  "  I  knew  you,  Mr.  Fitz-Boodlc,  at  once,  but  did  not 
mention  your  name  for  fear  of  agitating  my  wife.  She  don't 
like  to  have  the  memory  of  old  times  renewed,  sir  ;  her  former  hus- 
band, whom  you  knew,  Captain  Walker,  made  her  very  un- 
happy. He  died  in  America,  sir,  of  this,  I  fear"  (pointing  to 
the  bottle),  "  and  Mrs.  W.  quitted  the  stage  a  year  before  I 
quitted  business.     Are  you  going  on  to  Wiesbaden.''  " 

They  went  off  in  their  carriage  that  evening,  the  boy  on  the 
box  making  great  efforts  to  blow  out  of  the  postilion's  tasscllcd 
horn. 

I  am  glad  that  poor  Morgiana  is  happy  at  last,  and  hasten 
to  inform  you  of  the  fact:  I  am  going  to  visit  the  old  haunts 
of  my  youth  at  Pumpernickel.     Adieu. 

Yours, 

G.  F.  B. 


MR.  AND  MRS.  FRANK  BERRY 


CHAPTER  I 

THE    FIGHT    AT    SLAUGHTER    HOUSE 

I  AM  very  fond  of  reading  about  battles,  and  have 
most  of  Marlborough's  and  Wellington's  at  my  fin- 
gers' ends ;  but  the  most  tremendous  combat  I  ever  saw, 
and  one  that  interests  me  to  think  of  more  than  JNIal- 
plaquet  or  Waterloo  (which,  by  the  way,  has  grown  to 
be  a  downright  nuisance,  so  much  do  men  talk  of  it  after 
dinner,  prating  most  disgustingly  about  "  the  Prussians 
coming  up,"  and  what  not)  —I  say  the  most  tremendous 
combat  ever  known  was  that  between  Berry  and  Biggs 
the  gown-boy,  which  commenced  in  a  certain  place  called 
Middle  Briars,  situated  in  the  midst  of  the  cloisters  that 
run  along  the  side  of  the  playgromid  of  Slaughter 
House  School,  near  Smithfield,  London.  It  was  there, 
madam,  that  your  humble  servant  had  the  honour  of  ac- 
quiring, after  six  years'  labour,  that  immense  fund  of 
classical  knowledge  which  in  after  life  has  been  so  ex- 
ceedingly useful  to  him. 

The  circumstances  of  the  quarrel  were  these: — Biggs, 
the  gown-boy  (a  man  who,  in  those  days,  I  thought  was 
at  least  seven  feet  high,  and  was  quite  thunderstruck  to 
find  in  after  life  that  he  measured  no  more  than  five  feet 

4()2 


MR.   AND   MRS.   FRANK  BERRY      403 

four) ,  was  what  we  called  "  second  cock  "  of  the  school; 
the  first  cock  was  a  great  big,  good-humoured,  lazy,  fair- 
haired  fellow,  Old  Hawkins  by  name,  who,  because  he 
was  large  and  good-humoured,  hurt  nobody.  Biggs,  on 
the  contrary,  was  a  sad  bully;  he  had  half-a-dozen  fags, 
and  beat  them  all  unmercifully.  JSIoreover,  he  had  a 
little  brother,  a  boarder  in  Potky's  house,  whom,  as  a 
matter  of  course,  he  hated  and  maltreated  worse  than  any 
one  else. 

Well,  one  day,  because  young  Biggs  had  not  brought 
his  brother  his  hoops,  or  had  not  caught  a  ball  at  cricket, 
or  for  some  other  equally  good  reason.  Biggs  the  elder  so 
belaboured  the  poor  little  fellow,  that  Berry,  who  was 
sauntering  by,  and  saw  the  dreadful  blows  which  the 
elder  brother  was  dealing  to  the  younger  with  his  hockey- 
stick,  felt  a  compassion  for  the  little  fellow  (perhaps  he 
had  a  jealousy  against  Biggs,  and  wanted  to  try  a  few 
rounds  with  him,  but  that  I  can't  vouch  for)  ;  however, 
Berry  passing  by,  stopped  and  said,  "  Don't  j'ou  think 
you  have  thrashed  the  boy  enough.  Biggs?  "  He  spoke 
this  in  a  very  civil  tone,  for  he  never  would  have  thought 
of  interfering  rudely  with  the  sacred  privilege  that  an 
upper  boy  at  a  public  school  always  has  of  beating  a 
junior,  especially  when  they  happen  to  be  brothers. 

The  reply  of  Biggs,  as  might  be  expected,  was  to  hit 
young  Biggs  with  the  hockey-stick  twice  as  hard  as  be- 
fore, until  the  little  wretch  howled  with  pain.  "  I  sup- 
pose it's  no  business  of  yours,  Berry,"  said  Biggs,  thump- 
ing away  all  the  while,  and  laid  on  worse  and  worse. 

Until  Berry  (and,  indeed,  little  Biggs)  could  bear  it 
no  longer,  and  the  former,  bouncing  forward,  wrenched 
the  stick  out  of  old  Biggs'  hands,  and  sent  it  whirling  out 
of  the  cloister  window,  to  the  great  wonder  of  a  crowd  of 


404  MEN'S  WIVES 

us  small  boys,  who  were  looking  on.  Little  boys  always 
like  to  see  a  little  companion  of  their  own  soundly  beaten. 

"There!"  said  Berry,  looking  into  Biggs'  face,  as 
much  as  to  say,  "  I've  gone  and  done  it;  "  and  he  added 
to  the  brother,  "  Scud  away,  you  little  thief!  I've  saved 
you  this  time." 

"  Stop,  young  Biggs!  "  roared  out  his  brother  after  a 
pause;  "and  I'll  break  every  bone  in  your  infernal, 
scoundrelly  skin!  " 

Young  Biggs  looked  at  Berry,  then  at  his  brother, 
then  came  at  his  brother's  order,  as  if  back  to  be  beaten 
again,  but  lost  heart  and  ran  away  as  fast  as  his  little 
legs  could  carry  him. 

"  I'll  do  for  him  another  time,"  said  Biggs.  "  Here, 
under-boy,  take  my  coat;  "  and  we  all  began  to  gather 
round  and  formed  a  ring. 

"  We  had  better  wait  till  after  school.  Biggs,"  cried 
Berry,  quite  cool,  but  looking  a  little  pale.  "  There  are 
only  five  minutes  now,  and  it  will  take  you  more  than 
that  to  thrash  me." 

Biggs  upon  this  committed  a  great  error;  for  he  struck 
Berry  slightly  across  the  face  with  the  back  of  his  hand, 
saying,  "  You  are  in  a  funk."  But  this  was  a  feeling 
w^hich  Frank  Berry  did  not  in  the  least  entertain;  for  in 
reply  to  Biggs'  back -bander,  and  as  quick  as  thought, 
and  with  all  his  might  and  main— pong!  he  delivered  a 
blow  upon  old  Biggs'  nose  that  made  the  claret  spirt,  and 
sent  the  second  cock  down  to  the  ground  as  if  he  had 
been  shot. 

He  was  up  again,  however,  in  a  minute,  his  face  white 
and  gashed  with  blood,  his  eyes  glaring,  a  ghastly  spec- 
tacle ;  and  Berry,  meanwhile,  had  taken  his  coat  off,  and 
by  this  time  there  were  gathered  in  the  cloisters,  on  all 


MR.   AND   MRS.   FRANK  BERRY      405 

the  windows,  and  upon  each  other's  shoulders,  one  hun- 
dred and  twenty  young  gentlemen  at  the  very  least,  for 
the  news  had  gone  out  through  the  playground  of  "  a 
fight  between  Berry  and  Biggs." 

But  Berry  was  quite  right  in  his  remark  about  the 
propriety  of  deferring  the  business,  for  at  this  minute 
Mr.  Chip,  the  second  master,  came  down  the  cloisters 
going  into  school,  and  grinned  in  his  queer  way  as  he  saw 
the  state  of  Biggs'  face.  "  Holloa,  Mr.  Biggs,"  said  he, 
"  I  suppose  you  have  run  against  a  finger-post."  That 
was  the  regular  joke  with  us  at  school,  and  you  may  be 
sure  we  all  laughed  heartily :  as  we  always  did  when  Mr. 
Chip  made  a  joke,  or  anything  like  a  joke.  "  You  had 
better  go  to  the  pump,  sir,  and  get  yourself  washed,  and 
not  let  Dr.  Buckle  see  you  in  that  condition."  So  saying, 
Mr.  Chip  disappeared  to  his  duties  in  the  under-school, 
whither  all  we  little  boys  followed  him. 

It  was  Wednesday,  a  half -holiday,  as  everybody 
knows,  and  boiled-beef  day  at  Slaughter  House.  I  was 
in  the  same  boarding-house  with  Berry,  and  we  all  looked 
to  see  whether  he  ate  a  good  dinner,  just  as  one  would 
examine  a  man  who  was  going  to  be  hanged.  I  recol- 
lected, in  after-life,  in  Germany,  seeing  a  friend  who  was 
going  to  fight  a  duel,  eat  five  larks  for  his  breakfast,  and 
thought  I  had  seldom  witnessed  greater  courage.  Berry 
ate  moderately  of  the  boiled  heef— boiled  child  we  used 
to  call  it  at  school,  in  our  elegant,  jocular  way;  he  knew 
a  great  deal  better  than  to  load  his  stomach  upon  the  eve 
of  such  a  contest  as  was  going  to  take  place. 

Dinner  was  very  soon  over,  and  Mr.  Chip,  who  had 
been  all  the  while  joking  Berry,  and  pressing  him  to  eat, 
called  him  up  into  his  study,  to  the  great  disappointment 
of  us  all,  for  we  thought  he  was  going  to  prevent  the 


406  MEN'S  WIVES 

fight;  but  no  such  thing.  The  Rev.  Edward  Chip  took 
Berry  into  his  study,  and  poured  him  out  two  glasses  of 
port-wine,  which  he  made  him  take  with  a  biscuit,  and 
patted  him  on  the  back,  and  went  off.  I  have  no  doubt 
he  was  longing,  like  all  of  us,  to  see  the  battle;  but  eti- 
quette,  you  know,  forbade. 

When  we  went  out  into  the  green,  Old  Hawkins  was 
there — the  great  Hawkins,  the  cock  of  the  school.  I  have 
never  seen  the  man  since,  but  still  think  of  him  as  of 
something  awful,  gigantic,  mysterious;  he  who  could 
thrash  everybody,  who  could  beat  all  the  masters:  how 
we  longed  for  him  to  put  in  his  hand  and  lick  Buckle! 
He  was  a  dull  boy,  not  very  high  in  the  school,  and  had 
all  his  exercises  written  for  him.  Buckle  knew  this,  but 
respected  him ;  never  called  him  up  to  read  Greek  plays ; 
passed  over  all  his  blunders,  which  were  many;  let  him 
go  out  of  half -holidays  into  the  town  as  he  pleased :  how 
should  any  man  dare  to  stop  him — the  great,  calm,  mag- 
nanimous, silent  Strength!  They  say  he  licked  a  Life- 
Guardsman  ;  I  wonder  whether  it  was  Shaw,  who  killed 
all  those  Frenchmen?  no,  it  could  not  be  Shaw,  for  he 
was  dead  au  champ  d'Jwnneur;  but  he  would  have  licked 
Shaw  if  he  had  been  alive.  A  bargeman  I  know  he 
licked,  at  Jack  Randall's  in  Slaughter  House  Lane. 
Old  Hawkins  was  too  lazy  to  play  at  cricket;  he  saun- 
tered all  day  in  the  sunshine  about  the  green,  accom- 
panied by  little  Tippins,  who  was  in  the  sixth  form, 
laughed  and  joked  at  Hawkins  eternally,  and  was  the 
person  who  wrote  all  his  exercises. 

Instead  of  going  into  town  this  afternoon,  Hawkins 
remained  at  Slaughter  House,  to  see  the  great  fight  be- 
tween the  second  and  third  cocks. 

The  different  masters  of  the  school  kept  boarding- 


MR.  AND   MRS.  FRANK  BERRY      407 

houses  (such  as  Potky's,  Chip's,  Wicken's,  Pinney's,  and 
so  on) ,  and  the  playground  or  "  green,"  as  it  was  called, 
although  the  only  thing  green  about  the  place  was  the 
broken  glass  on  the  walls  that  separate  Slaughter  House 
from  Wilderness  Row  and  Goswell  Street — (many  a 
time  have  I  seen  Mr.  Pickwick  look  out  of  his  window  in 
that  street,  though  we  did  not  know  him  then)  — the  play- 
ground, or  green,  was  common  to  all.  But  if  any  stray 
boy  from  Potky's  was  found,  for  instance,  in,  or  entering 
into.  Chip's  house,  the  most  dreadful  tortures  were  prac- 
tised upon  him :  as  I  can  answer  in  my  own  case. 

Fancy,  then,  our  astonishment  at  seeing  a  little  three- 
foot  wretch,  of  the  name  of  Wills,  one  of  Hawkins's 
fags  (they  were  both  in  Potky's),  walk  undismayed 
amongst  us  lions  at  Chip's  house,  as  the  "  rich  and  rare  " 
young  lady  did  in  Ireland.  We  were  going  to  set  upon 
him  and  devour  or  otherwise  maltreat  him,  when  he  cried 
out  in  a  little  shrill,  impertinent  voice,  "  Tell  Berry  I 
want  him! " 

We  all  roared  with  laughter.  Berry  was  in  the  sixth 
form,  and  Wills  or  any  under-boy  would  as  soon  have 
thought  of  "  wanting  "  him,  as  I  should  of  wanting  the 
Duke  of  Wellington. 

Little  Wills  looked  round  in  an  imperious  kind  of  way. 
"  Well,"  says  he,  stamping  his  foot,  "do  you  hear?  Tell 
Berry  that  Hawkins  wants  him! " 

As  for  resisting  the  law  of  Hawkins,  you  might  as 
soon  think  of  resisting  immortal  Jove.  Berry  and  Tol- 
mash,  who  was  to  be  his  bottle-holder,  made  their  appear- 
ance immediately,  and  walked  out  into  the  green  where 
Hawkins  was  waiting,  and,  with  an  irresistible  audacity 
that  only  belonged  to  himself,  in  tlie  face  of  nature  and 
all  the  regulations  of  the  place,  was  smoking  a  cigar. 


408  MEN'S  WIVES 

When  Berry  and  Tolmash  found  him,  the  three  began 
slowly  pacing  up  and  down  in  the  sunshine,  and  we  little 
boys  watched  them. 

Hawkins  moved  his  arms  and  hands  every  now  and 
then,  and  was  evidently  laying  down  the  law  about  box- 
ing. We  saw  his  fists  darting  out  every  now  and  then 
with  mysterious  swiftness,  hitting  one,  two,  quick  as 
thought,  as  if  in  the  face  of  an  adversary;  now  his  left 
hand  went  up,  as  if  guarding  his  own  head,  now  his  im- 
mense right  fist  dreadfully  flapped  the  air,  as  if  punish- 
ing his  imaginary  opponent's  miserable  ribs.  The  con- 
versation lasted  for  some  ten  minutes,  about  which  time 
gown-boys'  dinner  was  over,  and  we  saw  these  youths  in 
their  black,  horned-button  jackets  and  knee-breeches,  is- 
suing from  their  door  in  the  cloisters.  There  were  no 
hoops,  no  cricket-bats,  as  usual  on  a  half -holiday.  Who 
would  have  thought  of  play  in  expectation  of  such  tre- 
mendous sport  as  was  in  store  for  us  ? 

Towering  among  the  gown-boys,  of  whom  he  was  the 
head  and  the  tyrant,  leaning  upon  Bushby's  arm,  and 
followed  at  a  little  distance  by  many  curious,  pale,  awe- 
stricken  boys,  dressed  in  his  black  silk  stockings,  which 
he  alwaj^s  sported,  and  with  a  crimson  bandanna  tied 
round  his  waist,  came  Biggs.  His  nose  was  swollen  with 
the  blow  given  before  school,  but  his  eyes  flashed 
fire.  He  was  laughing  and  sneering  with  Bushby, 
and  evidently  intended  to  make  minced  meat  of 
Berry. 

The  betting  began  pretty  freely :  the  bets  were  against 
poor  Berry.  Five  to  three  were  offered — in  ginger-beer. 
I  took  six  to  four  in  raspberry  open  tarts.  The  upper 
boys  carried  the  thing  farther  still:  and  I  know  for  a 
fact,  that  Swang's  book  amounted  to  four  pound  three 


MR.   AND   IVIR'S.   FRANK  B^ERRY      409 

(but  he  hedged  a  good  deal) ,  and  Tittery  lost  seventeen 
shillings  in  a  single  bet  to  Pitts,  who  took  the  odds. 

As  Biggs  and  his  party  arrived,  I  heard  Hawkins  say 
to  Berry,  "  For  heaven's  sake,  my  boy,  fib  with  your 
right,  and  mind  his  left  hand!  " 

JMiddle  Briars  was  voted  to  be  too  confined  a  space  for 
the  combat,  and  it  was  agreed  that  it  should  take  place 
behind  the  under-school  in  the  shade,  whither  we  all  went. 
Hawkins,  with  his  immense  silver  hunting-watch,  kept 
the  time ;  and  water  was  brought  from  the  pump  close  to 
Notley's  the  pastrycook's,  who  did  not  admire  fisticuffs 
at  all  on  half -holidays,  for  the  fights  kept  the  boys  away 
from  his  shop.  Gutley  was  the  only  fellow  in  the  school 
who  remained  faithful  to  him,  and  he  sat  on  the  counter 
—the  great  gormandising  brute!— eating  tarts  the  whole 
day. 

This  famous  fight,  as  every  Slaughter  House  man 
knows,  lasted  for  two  hours  and  twenty-nine  minutes, 
by  Hawkins's  immense  watch.  All  this  time  the  air  re- 
sounded with  cries  of  "  Go  it,  Berry !  "  "  Go  it,  Biggs !  " 
"  Pitch  into  him!  "  "  Give  it  him!  "  and  so  on.  Shall  I 
describe  the  hundred  and  two  rounds  of  the  combat?— 
No!— It  would  occupy  too  much  space,  and  the  taste  for 
such  descriptions  has  passed  away.^ 

1st  round.  Both  the  combatants  fresh,  and  in  prime 
order.  The  weight  and  inches  somewhat  on  the  gown- 
boy's  side.  Berry  goes  gallantly  in,  and  delivers  a 
clinker  on  the  gown-boy's  jaw.  Biggs  makes  play  witli 
his  left.    Berry  down. 


^  As  it  is  very  probable  that  many  fair  readers  may  not  approve  of  the  ex- 
tremely forcible  lanf^iiaj^e  in  which  the  combat  is  depicted,  I  be/^  them  to  skip 
it  and  pass  on  to  the  next  chapter,  and  to  rcrnetnlx-r  that  it  has  been  modelled 
on  the  style  of  the  very  best  writers  of  the  sportinjf  papers. 


410  MEN'S  WIVES 

4th  round.  Claret  drawn  in  profusion  from  the  gown- 
boy's  grog-shop.  (He  went  down,  and  had  his  front 
tooth  knocked  out,  but  the  blow  cut  Berry's  knuckles  a 
great  deal.) 

^  ^  ^  ^  ^  ^  ^ 

15th  round.  Chancery.  Fibbing.  Biggs  makes 
dreadful  work  with  his  left.  Break  away.  Rally. 
Biggs  down.    Betting  still  six  to  four  on  the  gown-boy. 

*lt  ^|t  ^lt  Jjt  ^It  i|t  ik 

20th  round.  The  men  both  dreadfully  punished. 
Berry  somewhat  shy  of  his  adversary's  left  hand. 

^  TfC  TP  TfC  TP"  ■SJC  7l» 

29th  to  42nd  round.  The  Chipsite  all  this  while  breaks 
away  from  the  gown-boy's  left,  and  goes  down  on  a 
knee.  Six  to  four  on  the  gown  boy,  until  the  fortieth 
round,  when  the  bets  became  equal. 

******* 

102nd  and  last  round.  For  half-an-hour  the  men  had 
stood  up  to  each  other,  but  were  almost  too  weary  to 
strike.  The  gown-boy's  face  hardly  to  be  recognized, 
swollen  and  streaming  with  blood.  The  Chipsite  in  a 
similar  condition,  and  still  more  punished  about  his  side 
from  his  enemy's  left  hand.  Berry  gives  a  blow  at  his 
adversary's  face,  and  falls  over  him  as  he  falls. 

The  gown-boy  can't  come  up  to  time.  And  thus  ended 
the  great  fight  of  Berry  and  Biggs. 

******* 

And  what,  pray,  has  this  horrid  description  of  a  battle 
and  a  parcel  of  school-boys  to  do  with  3Iens  Wives? 

What  has  it  to  do  with  Men's  Wives?— A  great  deal 
more,  madam,  than  you  think  for.  Only  read  Chapter 
II,  and  you  shall  hear. 


MR.  AND   MRS.   FRANK  BERRY      411 


CHAPTER   II 

THE    COMBAT    AT    VERSAILLES 

I  AFTERWARDS  came  to  be  Berry's  fag,  and, 
though  beaten  by  him  daily,  he  allowed,  of  course,  no 
one  else  to  lay  a  hand  upon  me,  and  I  got  no  more  thrash- 
ing than  was  good  for  me.  Thus  an  intimacy  grew  up 
between  us,  and  after  he  left  Slaughter  House  and  went 
into  the  dragoons,  the  honest  fellow  did  not  forget  his 
old  friend,  but  actually  made  his  appearance  one  day  in 
the  playground  in  moustaches  and  a  braided  coat,  and 
gave  me  a  gold  pencil-case  and  a  couple  of  sovereigns. 
I  blushed  when  I  took  them,  but  take  them  I  did ;  and  I 
think  the  thing  I  almost  best  recollect  in  my  life,  is  the 
sight  of  Berry  getting  behind  an  immense  bay  cab-horse, 
which  was  held  by  a  correct  little  groom,  and  was  waiting 
near  the  school  in  Slaughter  House  Square.  He  pro- 
posed, too,  to  have  me  to  "Long's,"  where  he  was  lodg- 
ing for  the  time;  but  this  invitation  was  refused  on  my 
behalf  by  Dr.  Buckle,  who  said,  and  possibly  with  cor- 
rectness, that  I  should  get  little  good  by  spending  my 
holiday  with  such  a  scapegrace. 

Once  afterwards  he  came  to  see  me  at  Christ  Church, 
and  we  made  a  show  of  writing  to  one  another,  and 
didn't,  and  always  had  a  hearty  mutual  goodwill;  and 
though  we  did  not  quite  burst  into  tears  on  parting,  were 
yet  quite  happy  when  occasion  threw  us  together,  and 
so  almost  lost  sight  of  each  other.  I  heard  lately  that 
Berry  was  married,  and  am  rather  ashamed  to  say,  that 
I  was  not  so  curious  as  even  to  ask  the  maiden  name  of 
his  lady. 


412  MEN'S  WIVES 

Last  summer  I  was  at  Paris,  and  had  gone  over  to 
Versailles  to  meet  a  party,  one  of  which  was  a  young 

lady   to   whom   I   was   tenderly But,    never 

mind.  The  day  was  rainy,  and  the  party  did  not  keep 
its  appointment;  and  after  yawning  through  the  inter- 
minable palace  picture-galleries,  and  then  making  an  at- 
tempt to  smoke  a  cigar  in  the  Palace  garden— for  which 
crime  I  was  nearly  run  through  the  body  by  a  rascally 
sentinel— I  was  driven,  perforce,  into  the  great  bleak, 
lonely  Place  before  the  Palace,  with  its  roads  branching 
off  to  all  the  towns  in  the  world,  which  Louis  and  Na- 
poleon once  intended  to  conquer,  and  there  enjoyed  my 
favourite  pursuit  at  leisure,  and  was  meditating  whether 
I  should  go  back  to  "  Vefour's  "  for  dinner,  or  patronize 
my  friend  M.  Duboux  of  the  "  Hotel  des  Reservoirs," 
who  gives  not  only  a  good  dinner,  but  as  dear  a  one  as 
heart  can  desire.  I  was,  I  say,  meditating  these  things, 
when  a  carriage  passed  by.  It  was  a  smart,  low  calash, 
with  a  pair  of  bay  horses  and  a  postilion  in  a  drab  jacket, 
that  twinkled  with  innumerable  buttons,  and  I  was  too 
much  occupied  in  admiring  the  build  of  the  machine,  and 
the  extreme  tightness  of  the  fellow's  inexpressibles,  to 
look  at  the  personages  within  the  carriage,  when  the  gen- 
tleman roared  out  "  Fitz!  "  and  the  postilion  pulled  up, 
and  the  lady  gave  a  shrill  scream,  and  a  little  black-muz- 
zled spaniel  began  barking  and  yelling  with  all  his  might, 
and  a  man  with  moustaches  jumped  out  of  the  vehicle, 
and  began  shaking  me  by  the  hand. 

"Drive  home,  John,"  said  the  gentleman:  "I'll  be 
with  you,  my  love,  in  an  instant — it's  an  old  friend. 
Fitz,  let  me  present  you  to  Mrs.  Berry." 

The  lady  made  an  exceedingly  gentle  inclination  of 
her  black-velvet  bonnet,  and  said,  "  Pray,  my  love,  re- 


MR.  AND   MRS.   FRANK  BERRY      413 

member  that  it  is  just  dimier-time.  However,  never 
mind  me"  And  with  another  shght  toss  and  a  nod  to 
the  postihon,  that  individual's  white  leather  breeches  be- 
gan to  jump  up  and  down  again  in  the  saddle,  and  the 
carriage  disappeared,  leaving  me  shaking  my  old  friend 
Berry  by  the  hand. 

He  had  long  quitted  the  army,  but  still  wore  his  mili- 
tary beard,  which  gave  to  his  fair  pink  face  a  fierce  and 
lion-like  look.  He  was  extraordinarily  glad  to  see  me, 
as  only  men  are  glad  who  live  in  a  small  town,  or  in  dull 
company.  There  is  no  destroyer  of  friendships  like  Lon- 
don, where  a  man  has  no  time  to  think  of  his  neighbour, 
and  has  far  too  many  friends  to  care  for  them.  He  told 
me  in  a  breath  of  his  marriage,  and  how  happy  he  was, 
and  straight  insisted  that  I  must  come  home  to  dinner, 
and  see  more  of  Angelica,  who  had  invited  me  herself— 
didn't  I  hear  her? 

"Mrs.  Berry  asked  you,  Frank;  but  I  certainly  did 
not  hear  her  ask  me!  " 

"  She  would  not  have  mentioned  the  dinner  but  that 
she  meant  me  to  ask  you.  I  know  she  did,"  cried  Frank 
Berry.  "And,  besides— hang  it,— I'm  master  of  the 
house.  So  come  you  shall.  No  ceremony,  old  boy— one 
or  two  friends— snug  family  party— and  we'll  talk  of 
old  times  over  a  bottle  of  claret." 

There  did  not  seem  to  me  to  be  the  slightest  objection 
to  this  arrangement,  except  that  my  boots  were  muddy, 
and  my  coat  of  the  morning  sort.  But  as  it  was  quite 
impossible  to  go  to  Paris  and  back  again  in  a  quarter  of 
an  hour,  and  as  a  man  may  dine  with  perfect  comfort  to 
himself  in  a  frock-coat,  it  did  not  occur  to  me  to  be  par- 
ticularly squeamish,  or  to  decline  an  old  friend's  invita- 
tion upon  a  pretext  so  trivial. 


414  MEN'S  WIVES 

Accordingly  we  walked  to  a  small  house  in  the  Ave- 
nue de  Paris,  and  were  admitted  first  into  a  small  garden 
ornamented  by  a  grotto,  a  fountain,  and  several  nymphs 
in  plaster-of -Paris,  then  up  a  mouldy  old  steep  stair  into 
a  hall,  where  a  statue  of  Cupid  and  another  of  Venus 
welcomed  us  with  their  eternal  simper;  then  through  a 
salle-a-manger,  where  covers  were  laid  for  six;  and 
finally  to  a  little  saloon,  where  Fido  the  dog  began  to 
howl  furiously  according  to  his  wont. 

It  was  one  of  the  old  pavilions  that  had  been  built  for 
a  pleasure-house  in  the  gay  days  of  Versailles,  orna- 
mented with  abundance  of  damp  Cupids  and  cracked 
gilt  cornices,  and  old  mirrors  let  into  the  walls,  and 
gilded  once,  but  now  painted  a  dingy  French  white.  The 
long  low  windows  looked  into  the  court,  where  the  foun- 
tain played  its  ceaseless  dribble,  surrounded  by  numerous 
rank  creepers  and  weedy  flowers,  but  in  the  midst  of 
which  the  statues  stood  with  their  bases  quite  moist  and 
green. 

I  hate  fountains  and  statues  in  dark,  confined  places: 
that  cheerless,  endless  plashing  of  water  is  the  most  in- 
hospitable sound  ever  heard.  The  stiif  grin  of  those 
French  statues,  or  ogling  Canova  Graces,  is  by  no  means 
more  happy,  I  think,  than  the  smile  of  a  skeleton,  and  not 
so  natural.  Those  little  pavilions  in  which  the  old  roues 
sported,  were  never  meant  to  be  seen  by  daylight,  depend 
on't.  They  were  lighted  up  with  a  hundred  wax-candles, 
and  the  little  fountain  yonder  was  meant  only  to  cool 
their  claret.  And  so,  my  first  impression  of  Berry's 
place  of  abode  was  rather  a  dismal  one.  However,  I 
heard  him  in  the  salle-a-manger  drawing  the  corks,  which 
went  off  with  a  cloop,  and  that  consoled  me. 

As  for  the  furniture  of  the  rooms  appertaining  to  the 


MR.  AND  MRS.   FRANK  BERRY      415 

Berrys,  there  was  a  harp  in  a  leather  case,  and  a  piano, 
and  a  flute-box,  and  a  huge  tambour  with  a  Saracen's 
nose  just  begun,  and  likewise  on  the  table  a  multiplicity 
of  those  little  gilt  books,  half  sentimental  and  half  relig- 
ious, which  the  wants  of  the  age  and  of  our  young 
ladies  have  produced  in  such  numbers  of  late.  I  quarrel 
with  no  lady's  taste  in  that  way;  but  heigho!  I  had 
rather  that  Mrs.  Fitz-Boodle  should  read  "  Humphrey 
Clinker!" 

Beside  these  works,  there  was  a  "  Peerage  "  of  course. 
What  genteel  family  was  ever  without  one  ? 

I  was  making  for  the  door  to  see  Frank  drawing  the 
corks,  and  was  bounced  at  by  the  amiable  little  black- 
muzzled  spaniel,  who  fastened  his  teeth  in  my  panta- 
loons, and  received  a  polite  kick  in  consequence,  which 
sent  him  howling  to  the  other  end  of  the  room,  and  the 
animal  was  just  in  the  act  of  performing  that  feat  of 
agility,  when  the  door  opened  and  madame  made  her  ap- 
pearance. Frank  came  behind  her  peering  over  her 
shoulder  with  rather  an  anxious  look. 

Mrs.  Berry  is  an  exceedingly  white  and  lean  person. 
She  has  thick  eyebrows,  which  meet  rather  dangerously 
over  her  nose,  which  is  Grecian,  and  a  small  mouth  with 
no  lips; — a  sort  of  feeble  pucker  in  the  face  as  it  were. 
Under  her  eyebrows  are  a  pair  of  enormous  eyes,  which 
she  is  in  the  habit  of  turning  constantly  ceiling-wards. 
Her  hair  is  rather  scarce,  and  worn  in  bandeaux,  and  she 
commonly  mounts  a  sprig  of  laurel,  or  a  dark  flower  or 
two,  which,  with  the  sham  tour — I  believe  that  is  the 
name  of  the  knob  of  artificial  hair  that  many  ladies  sport 
— gives  her  a  rigid  and  classical  look.  She  is  dressed  in 
black,  and  has  invariably  the  neatest  of  silk  stockings 
and  shoes ;  for  forsooth  her  foot  is  a  fine  one,  and  she  al- 


416  MEN'S  WIVES 

ways  sits  with  it  before  her,  looking  at  it,  stamping  it, 
and  admiring  it  a  great  deal.  "  Fido,"  she  says  to  her 
spaniel,  "  you  have  almost  crushed  my  poor  foot;  "  or, 
"  Frank,"  to  her  husband,  "  bring  me  a  footstool;  "  or, 
"  I  suffer  so  from  cold  in  the  feet,"  and  so  forth;  but  be 
the  conversation  what  it  will,  she  is  always  sure  to  put 
her  foot  into  it. 

She  invariably  wears  on  her  neck  the  miniature  of  her 
late  father,  Sir  George  Catacomb,  apothecary  to  George 
III. ;  and  she  thinks  those  two  men  the  greatest  the  world 
ever  saw.  She  was  born  in  Baker  Street,  Portman 
Square,  and  that  is  saying  almost  enough  of  her.  She  is 
as  long,  as  genteel,  and  as  dreary,  as  that  deadly-lively 
place,  and  sports,  by  way  of  ornament,  her  papa's  hatch- 
ment, as  it  were,  as  every  tenth  Baker  Street  house  has 
taught  her. 

What  induced  such  a  jolly  fellow  as  Frank  Berry  to 
marry  Miss  Angelica  Catacomb  no  one  can  tell.  He  met 
her,  he  says,  at  a  ball  at  Hampton  Court,  where  his  regi- 
ment was  quartered,  and  where,  to  this  day,  lives  "  her 
aunt  Lady  Pash."  She  alludes  perpetually  in  conversa- 
tion to  that  celebrated  lady;  and  if  you  look  in  the  "Bar- 
onetage "  to  the  pedigree  of  the  Pash  family,  you  may 
see  manuscript  notes  by  Mrs.  Frank  Berry,  relative  to 
them  and  herself.  Thus,  when  you  see  in  print  that  Sir 
John  Pash  married  Angelica,  daughter  of  Graves  Cata- 
comb, Esq.,  in  a  neat  hand  you  find  wTitten,  and  sister  of 
the  late  Sir  George  Catacomb,  of  Baker  Street,  Portman 
Square:  "A.  B."  follows  of  course.  It  is  a  wonder  how 
fond  ladies  are  of  writing  in  books  and  singing  their 
charming  initials !  Mrs.  Berry's  before-mentioned  little 
gilt  books  are  scored  with  pencil-marks,  or  occasionally 
at  the  margin  with  a  ! — note  of  interjection,  or  the  words 


MR.   AND   MRS.   FRANK  BERRY      417 

"  Too  true,  A.B."  and  so  on.  Much  may  be  learned  with 
regard  to  lovely  woman  by  a  look  at  the  books  she  reads 
in;  and  I  had  gained  no  inconsiderable  knowledge  of 
]\Irs.  Berry  by  the  ten  minutes  spent  in  the  drawing- 
room,  while  she  was  at  her  toilet  in  the  adjoining  bed- 
chamber. 

"  You  have  often  heard  me  talk  of  George  Fitz,"  says 
Berry,  with  an  appealing  look  to  madame. 

"  Very  often,"  answered  his  lady,  in  a  tone  which 
clearly  meant  "  a  great  deal  too  much."  "  Pray,  sir," 
continued  she,  looking  at  my  boots  with  all  her  might, 
"  are  we  to  have  your  company  at  dinner?  " 

"  Of  course  you  are,  my  dear;  what  else  do  j^ou  think 
he  came  for?  You  would  not  have  the  man  go  back  to 
Paris  to  get  his  evening  coat,  would  you?  " 

"At  least,  my  love,  I  hope  you  will  go  and  put  on 
yours,  and  change  those  muddy  boots.  Lady  Pash  will 
be  here  in  five  minutes,  and  you  know  Dobus  is  as  punc- 
tual as  clock-work."  Then  turning  to  me  with  a  sort  of 
apology  that  was  as  consoling  as  a  box  on  the  ear,  "  We 
have  some  friends  at  dinner,  sir,  who  are  rather  particu- 
lar persons ;  but  I  am  sure  when  they  hear  that  you  only 
came  on  a  sudden  invitation,  they  will  excuse  your  morn- 
ing dress.— Bah,  what  a  smell  of  smoke!  " 

With  this  speech  madame  placed  herself  majestically 
on  a  sofa,  put  out  her  foot,  called  Fido,  and  relapsed  into 
an  icy  silence.  Frank  had  long  since  evacuated  the  prem- 
ises, with  a  rueful  look  at  his  wife,  but  never  daring  to 
cast  a  glance  at  me.  I  saw  the  whole  business  at  once; 
here  was  this  lion  of  a  fellow  tamed  down  by  a  she  Van 
Amburgh,  and  fetching  and  carrying  at  her  orders  a 
great  deal  more  obediently  than  her  little  yowling,  black- 
muzzled  darling  of  a  Fido. 


418  MEN'S  WIVES 

I  am  not,  however,  to  be  tamed  so  easily,  and  was  de- 
termined in  this  instance  not  to  be  in  the  least  discon- 
certed, or  to  show  the  smallest  sign  of  ill-humour:  so  to 
renoucr  the  conversation,  I  began  about  Lady  Pash. 

"  I  heard  you  mention  the  name  of  Pash,  I  think?  " 
said  I.  "  I  know  a  lady  of  that  name,  and  a  very  ugly 
one  it  is  too." 

"  It  is  most  probably  not  the  same  person,"  answered 
Mrs.  Berry,  with  a  look  which  intimated  that  a  fellow 
like  me  could  never  have  had  the  honour  to  know  so  ex- 
alted a  person. 

"  I  mean  old  Lady  Pash  of  Hampton  Court.  Fat 
woman— fair,  ain't  she?— and  wears  an  amethyst  in  her 
forehead,  has  one  eye,  a  blond  wig,  and  dresses  in  light 
green  f 

"  Lady  Pash,  sir,  is  my  aunt,"  answered  Mrs.  Berry 
(not  altogether  displeased,  although  she  expected  money 
from  the  old  lady;  but  you  know  we  love  to  hear  our 
friends  abused  when  it  can  be  safely  done) . 

"  Oh,  indeed!  she  was  a  daughter  of  old  Catacomb's  of 
Windsor,  I  remember,  the  undertaker.  They  called  her 
husband  Callipash,  and  her  ladyship  Pishpash.  So  you 
see,  madam,  that  I  know  the  whole  family!  " 

"Mr.  Fitz-Simons!  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Berry,  rising, 
"  I  am  not  accustomed  to  hear  nicknames  applied  to  my- 
self and  my  family ;  and  must  beg  you,  when  you  honour 
us  with  your  company,  to  spare  our  feelings  as  much  as 
possible.  Mr.  Catacomb  had  the  confidence  of  his  sov- 
ereign, sir,  and  Sir  John  Pash  was  of  Charles  II.'s  crea- 
tion. The  one  was  my  uncle,  sir,  the  other  my  grand- 
father! " 

"  My  dear  madam,  I  am  extremely  sorry,  and  most 
sincerely  apologize  for  my  inadvertence.    But  you  owe 


MR.  AND   MRS.  FRANK  BERRY      419 

me  an  apology  too:  my  name  is  not  Fitz-Simons,  but 
Fitz-Boodle."^ 

"  What!  of  Boodle  Hall— my  husband's  old  friend;  of 
Charles  I.'s  creation?  My  dear  sir,  I  beg  you  a  thousand 
pardons,  and  am  delighted  to  welcome  a  person  of  whom 
I  have  heard  Frank  say  so  much.  Frank!  "  (to  Berry, 
who  soon  entered  in  very  glossy  boots  and  a  white  waist- 
coat), "  do  you  know,  darhng,  I  mistook  Mr.  Fitz-Boo- 
dle  for  Mr.  Fitz-Simons— that  horrid  Irish  horse-dealing 
person ;  and  I  never,  never,  never  can  pardon  myself  for 
being  so  rude  to  him." 

The  big  eyes  here  assumed  an  expression  that  was  in- 
tended to  kill  me  outright  with  kindness:  from  being 
calm,  still,  reserved,  Angelica  suddenly  became  gay, 
smiling,  confidential,  and  foldtre.  She  told  me  she  had 
heard  I  was  a  sad  creature,  and  that  she  intended  to  re- 
form me,  and  that  I  must  come  and  see  Frank  a  great 
deal. 

Now,  although  Mr.  Fitz-Simons,  for  whom  I  was 
mistaken,  is  as  low  a  fellow  as  ever  came  out  of  Dublin, 
and  having  been  a  captain  in  somebody's  army,  is  now 
a  black-leg  and  horse-dealer  by  profession;  yet  if  I  had 
brought  him  home  to  INIrs.  Fitz-Boodle  to  dinner,  I 
should  have  liked  far  better  that  that  imaginary  lady 
should  have  received  him  with  decent  civility,  and  not 
insulted  the  stranger  within  her  husband's  gates.  And, 
although  it  was  delightful  to  be  received  so  cordially 
when  the  mistake  was  discovered,  yet  I  found  tliat  all 
Berry's  old  acquaintances  were  by  no  means  so  warmly 
welcomed;  for  another  old  school-chum  presently  made 
his  appearance,  who  was  treated  in  a  very  different 
manner. 

This  was  no  other  than  poor  Jack  Butts,  who  is  a 


420  MEN'S  WIVES 

sort  of  small  artist  and  picture-dealer  by  profession, 
and  was  a  day-boy  at  Slaughter  House  when  we  were 
there,  and  very  serviceable  in  bringing  in  sausages,  pots 
of  pickles,  and  other  articles  of  merchandise,  which  we 
could  not  otherwise  procure.  The  poor  fellow  has  been 
employed,  seemingly,  in  the  same  office  of  fetcher  and 
carrier  ever  since;  and  occupied  that  post  for  Mrs. 
Berry.  It  was,  "  Mr.  Butts,  have  you  finished  that 
drawing  for  Lady  Pash's  album?  "  and  Butts  produced 
it;  and,  "  Did  you  match  the  silk  for  me  at  Delille's?  " 
and  there  was  the  silk,  bought,  no  doubt,  with  the  poor 
fellow's  last  five  francs;  and  "  Did  you  go  to  the  furni- 
ture-man in  the  Rue  St.  Jacques ;  and  bring  the  canary- 
seed,  and  call  about  my  shawl  at  that  odious,  dawdling 
Madame  Fichet's;  and  have  you  brought  the  guitar- 
strings?  " 

Butts  hadn't  brought  the  guitar-strings;  and  there- 
upon Mrs.  Berry's  countenance  assumed  the  same  ter- 
rible expression  which  I  had  formerly  remarked  in  it, 
and  which  made  me  tremble  for  Berry. 

"  My  dear  Angelica,"  though  said  he  with  some  spirit, 
"  Jack  Butts  isn't  a  baggage-waggon,  nor  a  Jack-of-all- 
trades;  you  make  him  paint  pictures  for  your  M^omen's 
albums,  and  look  after  your  upholsterer,  and  your  can- 
ary-bird, and  your  milliners,  and  turn  rusty  because  he 
forgets  your  last  message." 

"  I  did  not  turn  rusty,  Frank,  as  you  call  it  elegantly. 
I'm  very  much  obliged  to  Mr.  Butts  for  performing  my 
commissions — very  much  obliged.  And  as  for  not  pay- 
ing for  the  pictures  to  which  you  so  kindly  allude,  Frank, 
1  should  never  have  thought  of  offering  payment  for  so 
paltry  a  service;  but  I'm  sure  I  shall  be  happy  to  pay 
if  Mr.  Butts  will  send  me  in  his  bill." 

"  By  Jove,  Angelica,  this  is  too  much !  "  bounced  out 


MR.   AND   MRS.   FRANK  BERRY      421 

Berry ;  but  the  little  matrimonial  squabble  was  abruptly 
ended,  by  Berry's  French  man  flinging  open  the  door 
and  announcing  jNIiladi  Pash  and  Doctor  Dobus,  which 
two  personages  made  their  appearance. 

The  person  of  old  Pash  has  been  already  parentheti- 
cally described.  But  quite  different  from  her  dismal 
niece  in  temperament,  she  is  as  jolly  an  old  widow  as 
ever  wore  weeds.  She  was  attached  somehow  to  the 
court,  and  has  a  multiplicity  of  stories  about  the  prin- 
cesses and  the  old  king,  to  which  Mrs.  Berry  never  fails 
to  call  3^our  attention  in  her  grave,  important  way.  Lady 
Pash  has  ridden  many  a  time  to  the  Windsor  hounds; 
she  made  her  husband  become  a  member  of  the  Four-in- 
hand  Club,  and  has  numberless  stories  about  Sir  God- 
frey Webster,  Sir  John  Lade,  and  the  old  heroes  of 
those  times.  She  has  lent  a  rouleau  to  Dick  Sheridan, 
and  remembers  Lord  Byron  when  he  was  a  sulky,  slim 
young  lad.  She  says  Charles  Fox  was  the  pleasantest 
fellow  she  ever  met  with,  and  has  not  the  slightest  objec- 
tion to  inform  you  that  one  of  the  princes  was  very  much 
in  love  with  her.  Yet  somehow  she  is  only  fifty-two 
years  old,  and  I  have  never  been  able  to  understand  her 
calculation.  One  day  or  other  before  her  eye  went  out, 
and  before  those  pearly  teeth  of  hers  were  stuck  to  her 
gums  by  gold,  she  must  have  been  a  pretty-looking  body 
enough.  Yet  in  spite  of  the  latter  inconvenience,  she 
eats  and  drinks  too  much  every  day,  and  tosses  off  a  glass 
of  maraschino  with  a  trembling,  pudgy  hand,  every 
finger  of  which  twinkles  with  a  dozen,  at  least,  of  old 
rings.  She  has  a  story  about  every  one  of  those  rings, 
and  a  stupid  one  too.  But  there  is  always  something 
pleasant,  I  think,  in  stujjid  family  stories:  they  are 
good -hearted  i)eople  who  tell  them. 

As  for  Mrs.  Muchit,  nothing  need  be  said  of  her:  she 


422  MEN'S  WIVES 

is  Pash's  companion,  she  has  lived  with  Lady  Pash  since 
the  peace.  Nor  does  my  lady  take  any  more  notice  of  her 
than  of  the  dust  of  the  earth.  She  calls  her  "  poor 
JNIuchit,"  and  considers  her  a  half-witted  creature.  ]Mrs. 
Berry  hates  her  cordially,  and  thinks  she  is  a  designing 
toad-eater,  who  has  formed  a  conspiracy  to  rob  her  of 
her  aunt's  fortune.  She  never  spoke  a  word  to  poor 
INIuchit  during  the  whole  of  dinner,  or  offered  to  help 
her  to  anything  on  the  table. 

In  respect  to  Dobus,  he  is  an  old  Peninsular  man,  as 
you  are  made  to  know  before  you  have  been  very  long 
in  his  company ;  and,  like  most  army  surgeons,  is  a  great 
deal  more  military  in  his  looks  and  conversation,  than 
the  combatant  part  of  the  forces.  He  has  adopted  the 
sham-Duke-of-Wellington  air,  which  is  by  no  means 
uncommon  in  veterans;  and  though  one  of  the  easiest 
and  softest  fellows  in  existence,  speaks  slowly  and 
briefly,  and  raps  out  an  oath  or  two  occasionally,  as  it 
is  said  a  certain  great  captain  does.  Besides  the  above, 
we  sat  down  to  table  with  Captain  GofF,  late  of  the 

Highlanders;    the    Rev.    Lemuel    Whey,    who 

preaches  at  St.  Germains ;  little  Cutler,  and  the  French- 
man, who  always  will  be  at  English  parties  on  the  Con- 
tinent, and  who,  after  making  some  frightful  efforts  to 
speak  English,  subsides  and  is  heard  of  no  more.  Young 
married  ladies  and  heads  of  families  generally  have  him 
for  the  purpose  of  waltzing,  and  in  return  he  informs 
his  friends  of  the  club  or  the  cafe  that  he  has  made  the 
conquest  of  a  charmante  Anglaise.  Listen  to  me,  all 
family  men  who  read  this!  and  never  let  an  unmarried 
Frenchman  into  your  doors.  This  lecture  alone  is  worth 
the  price  of  the  book.  It  is  not  that  they  do  any  harm 
in  one  case  out  of  a  thousand,  heaven  forbid!  but  they 


MR.  AND   MRS.   FRANK   BERRY      423 

mean  harm.  They  look  on  our  Susannahs  with  unholy, 
dishonest  eyes.  Hearken  to  two  of  the  grinning  rogues 
chattering  together  as  they  clink  over  the  asphalte  of 
the  Boulevard  with  lacquered  boots,  and  plastered  hair, 
and  waxed  moustaches,  and  turned-down  shirt-collars, 
and  stays  and  goggling  eyes,  and  hear  how  they  talk  of 
a  good,  simple,  giddy,  vain,  dull  Baker  Street  creature, 
and  canvass  her  points,  and  show  her  letters,  and  insinu- 
ate—nevermind, but  I  tell  you  my  soul  grows  angry  when 
I  think  of  the  same;  and  I  can't  hear  of  an  English- 
woman marrying  a  Frenchman,  without  feeling  a  sort 
of  shame  and  pity  for  her.^ 

To  return  to  the  guests.  The  Rev.  Lemuel  Whey  is 
a  tea-party  man,  with  a  curl  on  his  forehead  and  a 
scented  pocket-handkerchief.  He  ties  his  white  neckcloth 
to  a  wonder,  and  I  believe  sleeps  in  it.  He  brings  his 
flute  with  him;  and  prefers  Handel,  of  course;  but  has 
one  or  two  pet  profane  songs  of  the  sentimental  kind, 
and  will  occasionally  lift  up  his  little  pipe  in  a  glee.  He 
does  not  dance,  but  the  honest  fellow  would  give  the 
world  to  do  it;  and  he  leaves  his  clogs  in  the  passage, 
though  it  is  a  wonder  he  wears  them,  for  in  the  muddiest 
weather  he  never  has  a  speck  on  his  foot.  He  was  at  St. 
John's  College,  Cambridge,  and  was  rather  gay  for  a 
term  or  two,  he  says.  He  is,  in  a  word,  full  of  the  milk- 
and-water  of  human  kindness,  and  his  family  lives  near 
Hackney. 

As  for  Goff ,  he  has  a  huge,  shining,  bald  forehead, 

'  Every  person  who  lias  lived  abroad,  ran,  of  course,  point  out  a  score  of 
honourable  exceptions  to  the  case  above  hinted  at,  and  knows  many  such  unions 
in  which  it  is  the  Frenchman  who  honours  tiie  I'^ngiish  lady  by  niarryin)^  her. 
But  it  must  be  remembered  that  marrying  in  France  means  rommouly  /ortvne- 
hunting :  and  as  for  the  respect  in  which  marriaj^e  is  held  in  France,  let  all  the 
French  novels  in  M.  Rolandi's  library  be  perused  by  those  who  wish  to  come 
to  a  decision  upon  the  question. 


424  MEN'S  WIVES 

and  immense  bristling,  Indian-red  whiskers.  He  wears 
white  wash-leather  gloves,  drinks  fairty,  likes  a  rubber, 
and  has  a  story  for  after  dinner,  beginning,  "  Doctor,  ye 
racklackt  Sandy  M'Lellan,  who  joined  us  in  the  West 
Indies.  Wal,  sir,"  &c.  These  and  little  Cutler  made  up 
the  party. 

Now  it  may  not  have  struck  all  readers,  but  any  sharp 
fellow  conversant  with  writing  must  have  found  out 
long  ago,  that  if  there  had  been  something  exceedingly 
interesting  to  narrate  with  regard  to  this  dinner  at 
Frank  Berry's,  I  should  have  come  out  with  it  a  couple 
of  pages  since,  nor  have  kept  the  public  looking  for  so 
long  a  time  at  the  dish-covers  and  ornaments  of  the 
table. 

But  the  simple  fact  must  now  be  told,  that  there  was 
nothing  of  the  slightest  importance  occurred  at  this  re- 
past, except  that  it  gave  me  an  opportunity  of  studying 
Mrs.  Berry  in  many  different  ways ;  and,  in  spite  of  the 
extreme  complaisance  which  she  now  showed  me,  of 
forming,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  a  most  unfavourable  opinion 
of  that  fair  lady.  Truth  to  tell,  I  would  much  rather 
she  should  have  been  civil  to  IVIrs.  INIuchit,  than  out- 
rageously complimentary  to  your  humble  servant;  and, 
as  she  professed  not  to  know  what  on  earth  there  w^as  for 
dinner,  would  it  not  have  been  much  more  natural  for  her 
not  to  frown,  and  bob,  and  wink,  and  point,  and  pinch 
her  lips  as  often  as  Monsieur  Anatole,  her  French  do- 
mestic, not  knowing  the  ways  of  English  dinner-tables, 
placed  anything  out  of  its  due  order?  The  allusions  to 
Boodle  Hall  were  innumerable,  and  I  don't  know  any 
greater  bore  than  to  be  obliged  to  talk  of  a  place  which 
belongs  to  one's  elder  brother.  Many  questions  were  like- 
wise asked  about  the  dowager  and  her  Scotch  relatives, 


MR.   AND   MRS.   FRANK  BERRY      425 

the  Plumduffs,  about  whom  Lady  Pash  knew  a  great 
deal,  having  seen  them  at  court  and  at  Lord  Melville's. 
Of  course  she  had  seen  them  at  court  and  at  Lord  Mel- 
ville's, as  she  might  have  seen  thousands  of  Scotchmen 
besides;  but  what  mattered  it  to  me,  who  care  not  a  jot 
for  old  Lady  Fitz-Boodle?  "  When  you  write,  you'll 
say  you  met  an  old  friend  of  her  ladyship's,"  says  Mrs. 
Berry,  and  I  faithfully  promised  I  would  when  I  wrote; 
but  if  the  New  Post  Office  paid  us  for  writing  letters 
(as  very  possibly  it  will  soon),  I  could  not  be  bribed  to 
send  a  line  to  old  Lady  Fitz. 

In  a  word  I  found  that  Berry,  like  many  simple  fel- 
lows before  him,  had  made  choice  of  an  imperious,  ill- 
humoured,  and  underbred  female  for  a  wife,  and  could 
see  with  half  an  eye  that  he  was  a  great  deal  too  much 
her  slave. 

The  struggle  was  not  over  yet,  however.  Witness 
that  little  encounter  before  dinner ;  and  once  or  twice  the 
honest  fellow  replied  rather  smartly  during  the  repast, 
taking  especial  care  to  atone  as  much  as  possible  for  his 
wife's  inattention  to  Jack  and  Mrs.  Muchit,  by  particu- 
lar attention  to  those  personages,  whom  he  helped  to 
everything  round  about  and  pressed  perpetually  to 
champagne;  he  drank  but  little  himself,  for  his  amiable 
wife's  eye  was  constantly  fixed  on  him. 

Just  at  the  conclusion  of  the  dessert,  madame,  who 
had  houdcd  Berry  during  dinner-time,  became  particu- 
larly gracious  to  her  lord  and  master,  and  tenderly  asked 
me  if  I  did  not  think  the  French  custom  was  a  good  one, 
of  men  leaving  table  with  the  ladies. 

"  Upon  my  word,  ma'am,"  says  I,  "  I  think  it's  a  most 
abominable  practice." 

"And  so  do  I,"  says  Cutler. 


426  MEN'S  WIVES 

"A  most  abominable  practice!  Do  you  hear  that?" 
cries  Berry,  laughing,  and  filling  his  glass. 

"I'm  sure,  Frank,  when  we  are  alone  you  always  come 
to  the  drawing-room,"  replies  the  lady,  sharply. 

"  Oh,  yes!  when  we're  alone,  darling,"  says  Berry, 
blushing;  "  but  now  we're  not  alone— ha,  ha!  Anatole, 
du  Bordeaux! " 

"  I'm  sure  they  sat  after  the  ladies  at  Carlton  House; 
didn't  they,  Lady  Pash?  "  says  Dobus,  who  likes  his 
glass. 

""  That  they  did! "  says  my  lady,  giving  him  a  jolly 
nod. 

"  I  racklackt,"  exclaims  Captain  GoiF,  "  when  I  was 
in  the  Mauritius,  that  Mestress  MacWhirter,  who  com- 
manded the  Saxty-Sackond,  used  to  say,  '  Mac,  if  ye 
want  to  get  lively,  ye'U  not  stop  for  more  than  two  hours 
after  the  leddies  have  laft  ye:  if  ye  want  to  get  drunk, 
ye'U  just  dine  at  the  mass.'  So  ye  see,  Mestress  Barry, 
what  was  Mac's  allowance— haw,  haw!  Mester  Whey, 
I'll  trouble  ye  for  the  o-lives." 

But  although  we  were  in  a  clear  majority,  that  indom- 
itable woman,  Mrs.  Berry,  determined  to  make  us  all 
as  uneasy  as  possible,  and  would  take  the  votes  all  round. 
Poor  Jack,  of  course,  sided  with  her,  and  Whey  said  he 
loved  a  cup  of  tea  and  a  little  music  better  than  all 
the  wine  of  Bordeaux.  As  for  the  Frenchman,  when 
Mrs.  Berry  said,  "  And  what  do  you  think,  M.  le  Vi- 
comte? " 

"Vat  you  speak?"  said  M.  de  Blagueval,  breaking 
silence  for  the  first  time  during  two  hours;  "  yase— eh? 
to  me  you  speak?  " 

''  A  pry  deeny,  aimy-voo  ally  avec  les  dam?  " 

*'  Comment  avec  les  dames?  *' 


MR.  AND  MRS.  FRANK  BERRY      427 

"Alhj  avec  les  dam  com  a  Parry,  ou  resty  avec  les 
Messew  com  on  Onglyterre?  " 

*'Ah,  madame!  vous  me  le  demandez?  "  cries  the  little 
wretch,  starting  up  in  a  theatrical  way,  and  putting  out 
his  hand,  which  JNIrs.  Berry  took,  and  with  this  the  ladies 
left  the  room.  Old  Lady  Pash  trotted  after  her  niece 
with  her  hand  in  Whey's,  very  much  wondering  at  such 
practices,  which  were  not  in  the  least  in  vogue  in  the 
reign  of  George  III. 

Mrs.  Berry  cast  a  glance  of  triumph  at  her  husband, 
at  the  defection;  and  Berry  was  evidently  annoyed  that 
three-eighths  of  his  male  forces  had  left  him. 

But  fancy  our  delight  and  astonishment,  when  in  a 
minute  they  all  three  came  back  again;  the  Frenchman 
looking  entirely  astonished,  and  the  parson  and  the 
painter  both  very  queer.  The  fact  is,  old  downright 
Lady  Pash,  who  had  never  been  in  Paris  in  her  hfe  be- 
fore, and  had  no  notion  of  being  deprived  of  her  usual 
hour's  respite  and  nap,  said  at  once  to  Mrs.  Berry,  "  My 
dear  Angelica,  you're  surely  not  going  to  keep  these 
three  men  here?  Send  them  back  to  the  dining-room, 
for  I've  a  thousand  things  to  say  to  you."  And  Angelica, 
who  expects  to  inherit  her  aunt's  property,  of  course  did 
as  she  was  bid;  on  which  the  old  lady  fell  into  an  easy 
chair,  and  fell  asleep  immediately,— so  soon,  that  is,  as 
the  shout  caused  by  the  reappearance  of  the  three  gen- 
tlemen in  the  dining-room  had  subsided. 

I  had  meanwhile  had  some  private  conversation  with 
little  Cutler  regarding  the  character  of  Mrs.  Berry. 
"  She's  a  regular  screw,"  whispered  he;  "  a  regular  Tar- 
tar. Berry  shows  fight,  though,  sometimes,  and  I've 
known  him  have  his  own  way  for  a  week  together.  After 
dinner  he  is  his  own  master,  and  hers  when  he  has  had  his 


428  MEN'S  WIVES 

share  of  wine ;  and  that's  why  she  will  never  allow  him  to 
drink  any." 

Was  it  a  wicked  or  was  it  a  noble  and  honourable 
thought  which  came  to  us  both  at  the  same  minute,  to 
rescue  Berry  from  his  captivity?  The  ladies,  of  course, 
will  give  their  verdict  according  to  their  gentle  natures; 
but  I  know  what  men  of  courage  will  think,  and  by 
their  jovial  judgment  will  abide. 

We  received,  then,  the  three  lost  sheep  back  into  our 
innocent  fold  again  with  the  most  joyous  shouting  and 
cheering.  We  made  Berry  (who  was,  in  truth,  nothing 
loth)  order  up  I  don't  know  how  much  more  claret.  We 
obliged  the  Frenchman  to  drink  malgre  lui,  and  in  the 
course  of  a  short  time  we  had  poor  Whey  in  such  a  state 
of  excitement,  that  he  actually  volunteered  to  sing  a 
song,  which  he  said  he  had  heard  at  some  very  gay  sup- 
per-party at  Cambridge,  and  which  begins:  — 

"  A  pye  sat  on  a  pear-tree, 
A  pye  sat  on  a  pear-tree, 
A  pye  sat  on  a  pear-tree, 

Heigh-ho,  heigh-ho,  heigh-ho !  " 

Fancy  Mrs.  Berry's  face  as  she  looked  in,  in  the  midst 
of  that  Bacchanalian  ditty,  when  she  saw  no  less  a  person 
than  the  Rev.  Lemuel  Whey  carolling  it! 

"  Is  it  you,  my  dear?  "  cries  Berry,  as  brave  now  as 
any  Petruchio.  "  Come  in,  and  sit  down,  and  hear 
Whey's  song." 

"  Lady  Pash  is  asleep,  Frank,"  said  she. 

"Well,  darling!  that's  the  very  reason.  Give  Mrs. 
Berry  a  glass,  Jack,  will  you?  " 

"  Would  you  wake  your  aunt,  sir?  "  hissed  out  madam. 

"  Never  mind  me,  love!  I'm  awake,  and  like  it! "  cried 


MR.  AND   MRS.   FRANK  BERRY      429 

the  venerable  Lady  Pash  from  the  salon.    "  Sing  away, 
gentlemen! " 

At  which  we  all  set  up  an  audacious  cheer;  and  Mrs. 
Berry  flounced  back  to  the  drawing-room,  but  did  not 
leave  the  door  open,  that  her  aunt  might  hear  our  mel- 
odies. 

Berry  had  by  this  time  arrived  at  that  confidential  state 
to  which  a  third  bottle  always  brings  the  well-regulated 
mind;  and  he  made  a  clean  confession  to  Cutler  and  my- 
self of  his  numerous  matrimonial  annoyances.  He  was 
not  allowed  to  dine  out,  he  said,  and  but  seldom  to  ask 
his  friends  to  meet  him  at  home.  He  never  dared  smoke 
a  cigar  for  the  life  of  him,  not  even  in  the  stables.  He 
spent  the  mornings  dawdling  in  eternal  shops,  the  even- 
ings at  endless  tea-parties,  or  in  reading  poems  or  mis- 
sionary tracts  to  his  wife.  He  was  compelled  to  take 
physic  whenever  she  thought  he  looked  a  little  pale,  to 
change  his  shoes  and  stockings  whenever  he  came  in 
from  a  walk.  "  Look  here,"  said  he,  opening  his  chest, 
and  shaking  his  fist  at  Dobus;  "  look  what  Angehca  and 
that  infernal  Dobus  have  brought  me  to." 

I  thought  it  might  be  a  flannel  waistcoat  into  which 
madam  had  forced  him:  but  it  was  worse:  I  give  you  my 
word  of  honour  it  was  a  pitch- plaster  I 

We  all  roared  at  this,  and  the  doctor  as  loud  as  any 
one;  but  he  vowed  that  he  had  no  hand  in  the  pitch- 
plaster.  It  was  a  favourite  family  remedy  of  the  late 
apothecary.  Sir  George  Catacomb,  and  had  been  put  on 
by  Mrs.  Berry's  own  fair  hands. 

When  Anatole  came  in  with  coffee.  Berry  was  in  such 
high  courage,  that  he  told  him  to  go  to  the  deuce  with  it; 
and  we  never  caught  sight  of  I^ady  Pash  more,  except 
when,  muffled  up  to  the  nose,  she  passed  through  the 


430  MEN'S  WIVES 

salle-a-manger  to  go  to  her  carriage,  in  which  Dobus  and 
the  parson  were  Hkewise  to  be  transported  to  Paris.  "  Be 
a  man,  Frank,"  says  she,  "and  hold  your  own" — for 
the  good  old  lady  had  taken  her  nephew's  part  in  the 
matrimonial  business — "  and  you,  Mr.  Fitz-Boodle, 
come  and  see  him  often.  You're  a  good  fellow,  take  old 
one-eyed  Callipash's  word  for  it.  Shall  I  take  you  to 
Paris?  " 

Dear,  kind  Angelica,  she  had  told  her  aunt  all  I  said ! 

"  Don't  go,  George,"  says  Berry,  squeezing  me  by 
the  hand.  So  I  said  I  was  going  to  sleep  at  Versailles 
that  night ;  but  if  she  would  give  a  convoy  to  Jack  Butts, 
it  would  be  conferring  a  great  obligation  on  him;  with 
which  favour  the  old  lady  accordingly  complied,  saying 
to  him,  with  great  coolness,  "  Get  up  and  sit  with  John 
in  the  rumble,  Mr.  What-d'ye-call-'im."  The  fact  is, 
the  good  old  soul  despises  an  artist  as  much  as  she  does 
a  tailor. 

Jack  tripped  to  his  place  very  meekly;  and  "Remem- 
ber Saturday,"  cried  the  doctor;  and  "Don't  forget 
Thursday,"  exclaimed  the  divine, — "  a  bachelors'  party, 
you  know."  And  so  the  cavalcade  drove  thundering 
down  the  gloomy  old  Avenue  de  Paris. 

The  Frenchman,  I  forgot  to  say,  had  gone  away  ex- 
ceedingly ill  long  before;  and  the  reminiscences  of 
"  Thursday  "  and  "  Saturday  "  evoked  by  Dobus  and 
Whey,  were,  to  tell  the  truth,  parts  of  our  conspiracy: 
for  in  the  heat  of  Berry's  courage,  we  had  made  him 
promise  to  dine  with  us  all  round  en  garfon;  with  all  ex- 
cept Captain  Goff ,  who  "  racklacted  "  that  he  was  en- 
gaged every  day  for  the  next  three  weeks :  as  indeed  he 
is,  to  a  thirty-sous  ordinary  which  the  gallant  officer  fre- 
quents, when  not  invited  elsewhere. 


MR.  AND  MRS.  FRANK  BERRY        431 

Cutler  and  I  then  were  the  last  on  the  field;  and 
though  we  were  for  moving  away,  Berry,  whose  vigour 
had,  if  possible,  been  excited  by  the  bustle  and  colloquy 
in  the  night  air,  insisted  upon  dragging  us  back  again, 
and  actually  proposed  a  grill  for  supper! 

We  found  in  the  salle-a-manger  a  strong  smell  of  an 
extinguished  lamp,  and  Mrs.  Berry  was  snuffing  out  the 
candles  on  the  sideboard. 

"Hullo,  my  dear!"  shouts  Berry:  "easily,  if  you 
please!  we've  not  done  yet!  " 

"Not  done  yti,  Mr.  Berry!"  groans  the  lady,  in  a 
hollow,  sepulchral  tone. 

"No,  Mrs.  B.,  not  done  yet.  We  are  going  to  have 
some  supper,  ain't  we,  George?  " 

"  I  think  it's  quite  time  to  go  home,"  said  Mr.  Fitz- 
Boodle  (who,  to  say  the  truth,  began  to  tremble  him- 
self). 

"  I  think  it  is,  sir;  you  are  quite  right,  sir;  you  will 
pardon  me,  gentlemen,  I  have  a  bad  headache,  and  will 
retire." 

"  Good-night,  my  dear!  "  said  that  audacious  Berry. 
"  Anatole,  tell  the  cook  to  broil  a  fowl  and  bring  some 
wine." 

If  the  loving  couple  had  been  alone,  or  if  Cutler  had 
not  been  an  attache  to  the  embassy,  before  whom  she  was 
afraid  of  making  herself  ridiculous,  I  am  confident  that 
Mrs.  Berry  would  have  fainted  away  on  the  spot; 
and  that  all  Berry's  courage  would  have  tumbled  down 
lifeless  by  the  side  of  her.  So  she  only  gave  a  mar- 
tyrised look,  and  left  the  room;  and  while  we  partook 
of  the  very  unnecessary  repast,  was  good  enough  to 
sing  some  hymn  tunes  to  an  exceedingly  slow  movement 
in   the   next   room,    intimating   that   she   was    awake, 


432  MEN'S  WIVES 

and  that,  though  suiFering,  she  found  her  consolations 
in  rehgion. 

These  melodies  did  not  in  the  least  add  to  our  friend's 
courage.  The  devilled  fowl  had,  somehow,  no  devil  in 
it.  The  champagne  in  the  glasses  looked  exceedingly- 
flat  and  blue.  The  fact  is,  that  Cutler  and  I  were  now 
both  in  a  state  of  dire  consternation,  and  soon  made  a 
move  for  our  hats,  and  lighting  each  a  cigar  in  the  hall, 
made  across  the  little  green  where  the  Cupids  and 
nymphs  were  listening  to  the  dribbling  fountain  in  the 
dark. 

"  I'm  hanged  if  I  don't  have  a  cigar  too!  "  says  Berry, 
rushing  after  us ;  and  accordingly  putting  in  his  pocket 
a  key  about  the  size  of  a  shovel,  which  hung  by  the  little 
handle  of  the  outer  grille,  forth  he  sallied,  and  joined 
us  in  our  fumigation. 

He  stayed  with  us  a  couple  of  hours,  and  returned 
homewards  in  perfect  good  spirits,  having  given  me  his 
word  of  honour  he  would  dine  with  us  the  next  day.  He 
put  in  his  immense  key  into  the  grille,  and  unlocked  it; 
but  the  gate  would  not  open:  it  was  bolted  within. 

He  began  to  make  a  furious  jangling  and  ringing  at 
the  bell;  and  in  oaths,  both  French  and  English,  called 
upon  the  recalcitrant  Anatole. 

After  much  tolling  of  the  bell,  a  light  came  cutting 
across  the  crevices  of  the  inner  door ;  it  was  thrown  open, 
and  a  figure  appeared  with  a  lamp,— a  tall,  slim  figure 
of  a  woman,  clothed  in  white  from  head  to  foot. 

It  was  Mrs.  Berry,  and  when  Cutler  and  I  saw  her, 
we  both  ran  away  as  fast  as  our  legs  could  carry  us. 

Berry,  at  this,  shrieked  with  a  wild  laughter.  "  Re- 
member to-morrow,  old  boys,"  shouted  he,—"  six 
o'clock;  "  and  we  were  a  quarter  of  a  mile  off  when  the 


MR.  AND  MRS.  FRANK  BERRY       433 

gate  closed,  and  the  little  mansion  of  the  Avenue  de 
Paris  was  once  more  quiet  and  dark. 

The  next  afternoon,  as  we  were  playing  at  billiards, 
Cutler  saw  Mrs.  Berry  drive  by  in  her  carriage ;  and  as 
soon  as  rather  a  long  rubber  was  over,  I  thought  I  would 
go  and  look  for  our  poor  friend,  and  so  went  down  to 
the  Pavilion.  Everj^  door  was  open,  as  the  wont  is  in 
France  and  I  walked  in  unannounced,  and  saw  this: 

He  was  playing  a  duet  with  her  on  the  flute.  She  had 
been  out  but  for  half-an-hour,  after  not  speaking  all  the 
morning;  and  having  seen  Cutler  at  the  billiard-room 
window,  and  suspecting  we  might  take  advantage  of 
her  absence,  she  had  suddenly  returned  home  again,  and 
had  flung  herself,  weeping,  into  her  Frank's  arms,  and 
said  she  could  not  bear  to  leave  him  in  anger.  And  so, 
after  sitting  for  a  little  while  sobbing  on  his  knee,  she 
had  forgotten  and  forgiven  every  thing! 

The  dear  angel!  I  met  poor  Frank  in  Bond  Street 
only  yesterday;  but  he  crossed  over  to  the  other  side  of 
the  way.  He  had  on  goloshes,  and  is  grown  very  fat 
and  pale.  He  has  shaved  off*  his  moustaches,  and  in- 
stead, wears  a  respirator.  He  has  taken  his  name  off*  all 
his  clubs,  and  lives  very  grimly  in  Baker  Street.  Well, 
ladies,  no  doubt  you  say  he  is  right:  and  what  are  the^ 
odds,  so  long  as  you  are  happy? 


DENNIS  HAGGARTY'S  WIFE 


THERE  was  an  odious  Irishwoman  and  her  daugh- 
ter who  used  to  frequent  the  "  Royal  Hotel "  at 
Leamington  some  years  ago,  and  who  went  by  the  name 
of  Mrs.  Major  Gam.  Gam  had  been  a  distinguished 
officer  in  his  Majesty's  service,  whom  nothing  but  death 
and  his  own  amiable  wife  could  overcome.  The  widow 
mourned  her  husband  in  the  most  becoming  bombazeen 
she  could  muster,  and  had  at  least  half-an-inch  of  lamp- 
black round  the  immense  visiting-tickets  which  she  left 
at  the  houses  of  the  nobility  and  gentry  her  friends. 

Some  of  us,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  used  to  call  her  Mrs. 
Major  Gammon;  for  if  the  worthy  widow  had  a  propen- 
sity, it  was  to  talk  largely  of  herself  and  family  (of  her 
own  family,  for  she  held  her  husband's  very  cheap) ,  and 
of  the  wonders  of  her  paternal  mansion,  Molloyville, 
county  of  Mayo.  She  was  of  the  Molloys  of  that 
county ;  and  though  I  never  heard  of  the  family  before, 
I  have  little  doubt,  from  what  Mrs.  Major  Gam  stated, 
that  they  were  the  most  ancient  and  illustrious  family  of 
that  part  of  Ireland.  I  remember  there  came  down  to 
see  his  aunt  a  young  fellow  with  huge  red  whiskers  and 
tight  nankeens,  a  green  coat  and  an  awful  breastpin, 
who,  after  two  days'  stay  at  the  Spa,  proposed  marriage 

to  Miss  S ,  or,  in  default,  a  duel  with  her  father ;  and 

who  drove  a  flash  curricle  with  a  bay  and  a  grey,  and  who 

434 


DENNIS  HAGGARTY'S  WIFE         435 

was  presented  with  much  pride  by  ISIrs.  Gam  as  Castle- 
reagh  JNIolloy  of  Molloyville.  We  all  agreed  that  he 
was  the  most  insufferable  snob  of  the  whole  season,  and 
were  delighted  when  a  bailiff  came  down  in  search  of 
him. 

Well,  this  is  all  I  know  personally  of  the  Molloyville 
family;  but  at  the  house  if  you  met  the  Widow  Gam, 
and  talked  on  any  subject  in  life,  you  were  sure  to  hear 
of  it.  If  you  asked  her  to  have  pease  at  dinner,  she 
w^ould  say,  "  Oh,  sir,  after  the  pease  at  Molloyville,  I 
really  don't  care  for  any  others,— do  I,  dearest  Jemima? 
We  always  had  a  dish  in  the  month  of  June,  when  my 
father  gave  his  head  gardener  a  guinea  (we  had  three  at 
Molloyville),  and  sent  him  with  his  compliments  and  a 
quart  of  pease  to  our  neighbour,  dear  Lord  Marrowfat. 
What  a  sweet  place  Marrowfat  Park  is!  isn't  it,  Je- 
mima?" If  a  carriage  passed  by  the  window,  INIrs. 
Major  Gammon  would  be  sure  to  tell  you  that  there 
were  three  carriages  at  Molloyville,  "  the  barouche,  the 
chawiot,  and  the  covered  cyar."  In  the  same  manner  she 
would  favour  you  with  the  number  and  names  of  the 
footmen  of  the  establishment ;  and  on  a  visit  to  Warwick 
Castle  (for  this  bustling  woman  made  one  in  every  party 
of  pleasure  that  was  formed  from  the  hotel),  she  gave 
us  to  understand  that  the  great  walk  by  the  river  was  al- 
together inferior  to  the  principal  avenue  of  JMolloyville 
Park.  I  should  not  have  been  able  to  tell  so  much  about 
Mrs.  Gam  and  her  daughter,  but  that,  between  ourselves, 
I  was  particularly  sweet  upon  a  young  lady  at  the  time, 
whose  papa  lived  at  the  "  Royal,"  and  was  under  the  care 
of  Dr.  Jephson. 

The  Jemima  appealed  to  by  Mrs.  Gam  in  tlic  above 
sentence  was,  of  course,  her  daughter,  apostrophized  by 


436  MEN'S  WIVES 

her  mother,  "  Jemima,  my  soul's  darhng!  "  or,  "  Jemima, 
my  blessed  child!  "  or,  "  Jemima,  my  own  love!  "  The 
sacrifices  that  Mrs.  Gam  had  made  for  that  daughter 
were,  she  said,  astonishing.  The  money  she  had  spent 
in  masters  upon  her,  the  illnesses  through  which  she  had 
nursed  her,  the  ineffable  love  the  mother  bore  her,  were 
only  known  to  heaven,  Mrs.  Gam  said.  They  used  to 
come  into  the  room  with  their  arms  round  each  other's 
waists:  at  dinner  between  the  courses  the  mother  would 
sit  with  one  hand  locked  in  her  daughter's;  and  if  only 
two  or  three  young  men  were  present  at  the  time,  would 
be  pretty  sure  to  kiss  her  Jemima  more  than  once  during 
the  time  whilst  the  bohea  was  poured  out. 

As  for  Miss  Gam,  if  she  was  not  handsome,  candour 
forbids  me  to  say  she  was  ugly.  She  was  neither  one  nor 
t'other.  She  was  a  person  who  wore  ringlets  and  a  band 
round  her  forehead ;  she  knew  four  songs,  which  became 
rather  tedious  at  the  end  of  a  couple  of  months'  acquain- 
tance ;  she  had  excessively  bare  shoulders ;  she  inclined  to 
wear  numbers  of  cheap  ornaments,  rings,  brooches,  fer- 
ronieres,  smelling-bottles,  and  was  always,  we  thought, 
very  smartly  dressed:  though  old  Mrs.  Lynx  hinted  that 
her  gowns  and  her  mother's  were  turned  over  and  over 
again,  and  that  her  eyes  were  almost  put  out  by  darning 
stockings. 

These  eyes  Miss  Gam  had  very  large,  though  rather 
red  and  weak,  and  used  to  roll  them  about  at  every  eli- 
gible unmarried  man  in  the  place.  But  though  the 
widow  subscribed  to  all  the  balls,  though  she  hired  a  fly 
to  go  to  the  meet  of  the  hounds,  though  she  was  constant 
at  church,  and  Jemima  sang  louder  than  any  person 
there  except  the  clerk,  and  though,  probably,  any  person 
who  made  her  a  happy  husband  would  be  invited  down 


DENNIS  HAGGARTY'S  WIFE         437 

to  enjoy  the  three  footmen,  gardeners,  and  carriages  at 
Molloyville,  j'et  no  Enghsh  gentleman  was  found  suf- 
ficiently audacious  to  propose.  Old  Lynx  used  to  say 
that  the  pair  had  been  at  Tunbridge,  Harrogate, 
Brighton,  Ramsgate,  Cheltenham,  for  this  eight  years 
past ;  where  they  had  met,  it  seemed,  with  no  better  for- 
tune. Indeed,  the  widow  looked  rather  high  for  her 
blessed  child :  and  as  she  looked  with  the  contempt  which 
no  small  number  of  Irish  people  feel  upon  all  persons 
who  get  their  bread  by  labour  or  commerce;  and  as  she 
was  a  person  whose  energetic  manners,  costume,  and 
brogue  were  not  much  to  the  taste  of  quiet  English 
country  gentlemen,  Jemima— sweet,  spotless  flower,— 
still  remained  on  her  hands,  a  thought  withered,  perhaps, 
and  seedy. 

Now,  at  this  time,  the  120th  Regiment  was  quartered 
at  Weedon  Barracks,  and  with  the  corps  was  a  certain 
Assistant- Surgeon  Haggarty,  a  large,  lean,  tough,  raw- 
boned  man,  with  big  hands,  knock-knees,  and  carroty 
whiskers,  and,  withal,  as  honest  a  creature  as  ever  han- 
dled a  lancet.  Haggarty,  as  his  name  imports,  was  of 
the  very  same  nation  as  Mrs.  Gam,  and,  what  is  more, 
the  honest  fellow  had  some  of  the  peculiarities  which  be- 
longed to  the  widow,  and  bragged  about  his  family  al- 
most as  much  as  she  did.  I  do  not  know  of  what  par- 
ticular part  of  Ireland  they  were  kings,  but  monarchs 
they  must  have  been,  as  have  been  the  ancestors  of  so 
many  thousand  Hibernian  families;  but  they  had  been 
men  of  no  small  consideration  in  Dublin,  "where  my 
father,"  Haggarty  said,  "  is  as  well  known  as  King  Wil- 
liam's statue,  and  where  he  'rowls  his  carriage,  too,'  let 
me  tell  ye." 

Hence,  Haggarty  was  called  by  the  wags  "  Rowl  the 


438  MEN'S  WIVES 

carriage,"  and  several  of  them  made  inquiries  of  Mrs. 
Gam  regarding  him:  "  Mrs.  Gam,  when  you  used  to  go 
up  from  Molloyville  to  the  Lord  Lieutenant's  balls,  and 
had  your  town-house  in  Fitzwilliam  Square,  used  you  to 
meet  the  famous  Doctor  Haggarty  in  society?  " 

"Is  it  Surgeon  Haggarty  of  Gloucester  Street  ye 
mean?  The  black  Papist !  D'ye  suppose  that  the  Mol- 
loys  would  sit  down  to  table  with  a  creature  of  that 
sort? " 

"  Why,  isn't  he  the  most  famous  physician  in  Dublin, 
and  doesn't  he  rowl  his  carriage  there?  " 

"  The  horrid  wretch!  He  keeps  a  shop,  I  tell  ye,  and 
sends  his  sons  out  with  the  medicine.  He's  got  four  of 
them  off  into  the  army,  Ulick  and  Phil,  and  Terence  and 
Denny,  and  now  it's  Charles  that  takes  out  the  physic. 
But  how  should  I  know  about  these  odious  creatures? 
Their  mother  was  a  Burke,  of  Burke's  Town,  county 
Cavan,  and  brought  Surgeon  Haggarty  two  thousand 
pounds.  She  was  a  Protestant ;  and  I  am  surprised  how 
she  could  have  taken  up  with  a  horrid,  odious.  Popish 
apothecary! " 

From  the  extent  of  the  widow's  information,  I  am  led 
to  suppose  that  the  inhabitants  of  Dublin  are  not  less 
anxious  about  their  neighbours  than  are  the  natives  of 
English  cities ;  and  I  think  it  is  very  probable  that  Mrs. 
Gam's  account  of  the  young  Haggartys  who  carried  out 
the  medicine  is  perfectly  correct,  for  a  lad  in  the  120th 
made  a  caricature  of  Haggarty  coming  out  of  a  chem- 
ist's shop  with  an  oil-cloth  basket  under  his  arm,  which 
set  the  worthy  surgeon  in  such  a  fury  that  there  would 
have  been  a  duel  between  him  and  the  ensign,  could  the 
fiery  doctor  have  had  his  way. 

Now,  Dionysius  Haggarty  was  of  an  exceedingly  in- 


DENNIS  HAGGARTY'S  WIFE         439 

flammable  temperament,  and  it  chanced  that  of  all  the 
invalids,  the  visitors,  the  young  squires  of  Warwick- 
shire, the  young  manufacturers  from  Birmingham,  the 
young  officers  from  the  barracks— it  chanced,  unluckily 
for  ]\Iiss  Gam  and  himself,  that  he  was  the  only  indi- 
vidual who  was  in  the  least  smitten  by  her  personal 
charms.  He  was  very  tender  and  modest  about  his  love, 
however,  for  it  must  be  owned  that  he  respected  Mrs. 
Gam  hugely,  and  fully  admitted,  like  a  good  simple 
fellow  as  he  was,  the  superiority  of  that  lady's  birth  and 
breeding  to  his  own.  How  could  he  hope  that  he,  a 
humble  assistant-surgeon,  with  a  thousand  pounds  his 
aunt  Kitty  left  him  for  all  his  fortune,— how  could  he 
hope  that  one  of  the  race  of  Molloyville  would  ever 
condescend  to  marry  him? 

Inflamed,  however,  by  love,  and  inspired  by  wdne,  one 
day  at  a  picnic  at  Kenilworth,  Haggarty,  whose  love 
and  raptures  were  the  talk  of  the  whole  regiment,  was 
induced  by  his  waggish  comrades  to  make  a  proposal  in 
form. 

"Are  you  aware,  Mr.  Haggarty,  that  you  are  speak- 
ing to  a  Molloy?  "  w^as  all  the  reply  majestic  Mrs.  Gam 
made  when,  according  to  the  usual  formula,  the  flutter- 
incr  Jemina  referred  her  suitor  to  "  mamma."  She  left 
him  with  a  look  which  was  meant  to  crush  the  poor  fellow 
to  earth ;  she  gathered  up  her  cloak  and  bonnet,  and  pre- 
cipitately called  for  her  fly.  Slie  took  care  to  tell  every 
single  soul  in  Leamington  tliat  the  son  of  the  odious 
Papist  apothecary  had  had  the  audacity  to  propose  for 
her  daughter  (indeed  a  proposal,  coming  from  what- 
ever quarter  it  may,  does  no  harm)  and  left  Haggarty 
in  a  state  of  extreme  depression  and  despair. 

His  down-heartedness,  indeed,  surprised  most  of  his 


440  MEN'S  WIVES 

acquaintances  in  and  out  of  the  regiment,  for  the  young 
lady  was  no  beauty,  and  a  doubtful  fortune,  and  Dennis 
was  a  man  outwardly  of  an  unromantic  turn,  who 
seemed  to  have  a  great  deal  more  liking  for  beef -steak 
and  whisky-punch  than  for  women,  however  fascinat- 
ing. 

But  there  is  no  doubt  this  shy,  uncouth,  rough  fellow- 
had  a  warmer  and  more  faithful  heart  hid  within  him 
than  many  a  dandy  who  is  as  handsome  as  Apollo.  I,  for 
my  part,  never  can  understand  why  a  man  falls  in  love, 
and  heartily  give  him  credit  for  so  doing,  never  mind  with 
what  or  whom.  That  I  take  to  be  a  point  quite  as  much 
beyond  an  individual's  own  control  as  the  catching  of 
the  small-pox  or  the  colour  of  his  hair.  To  the  surprise 
of  all.  Assistant- Surgeon  Dionysius  Haggarty  was 
deeply  and  seriously  in  love ;  and  I  am  told  that  one  day 
he  very  nearly  killed  the  before-mentioned  young  ensign 
with  a  carving-knife,  for  venturing  to  make  a  second 
caricature,  representing  Lady  Gammon  and  Jemima  in 
a  fantastical  park,  surrounded  by  three  gardeners,  three 
carriages,  three  footmen,  and  the  covered  cyar.  He 
would  have  no  joking  concerning  them.  He  became 
moody  and  quarrelsome  of  habit.  He  was  for  some 
time  much  more  in  the  surgery  and  hospital  than  in  the 
mess.  He  gave  up  the  eating,  for  the  most  part,  of 
those  vast  quantities  of  beef  and  pudding,  for  which  his 
stomach  had  used  to  afford  such  ample  and  swift  ac- 
commodation ;  and  when  the  cloth  was  drawn,  instead  of 
taking  twelve  tumblers,  and  singing  Irish  melodies,  as 
he  used  to  do,  in  a  horrible  cracked  yelling  voice,  he 
would  retire  to  his  own  apartment,  or  gloomily  pace  the 
barrack-yard,  or  madly  whip  and  spur  a  grey  mare  he 
had  on  the  road  to  Leamington,  where  his  Jemima  (al- 
though invisible  for  him)  still  dwelt. 


DENNIS  HAGGARTY'S  WIFE         441 

The  season  at  Leamington  coming  to  a  conclusion  by 
the  withdrawal  of  the  j^oung  fellows  who  frequented 
that  watering-place,  the  Widow  Gam  retired  to  her 
usual  quarters  for  the  other  months  of  the  year.  Where 
these  quarters  were,  I  think  we  have  no  right  to  ask,  for 
I  believe  she  had  quarrelled  with  her  brother  at  JVIolloy- 
ville,  and  besides,  was  a  great  deal  too  proud  to  be  a 
burden  on  anybody. 

Not  only  did  the  widow  quit  Leamington,  but  very 
soon  afterwards  the  120th  received  its  marching  orders, 
and  left  Weedon  and  Warwickshire.  Haggarty's  ap- 
petite was  by  this  time  partially  restored,  but  his  love 
was  not  altered,  and  his  humour  was  still  morose  and 
gloomy.  I  am  informed  that  at  this  period  of  his  life 
he  wrote  some  poems  relative  to  his  unhappy  passion;  a 
wild  set  of  verses  of  several  lengths,  and  in  his  handwrit- 
ing, being  discovered  upon  a  sheet  of  paper  in  which  a 
pitch-plaster  was  wrapped  up,  which  Lieutenant  and 
Adjutant  Wheezer  was  compelled  to  put  on  for  a  cold. 

Fancy  then,  three  years  afterwards,  the  surprise  of 
all  Haggarty's  acquaintances  on  reading  in  the  public 
papers  the  following  announcement: — 

"  Married,  at  Monkstown  on  the  12th  instant,  Dionysius  Hag- 
garty,  Esq.,  of  H.  M.  120th  Foot,  to  Jemima  Amelia  Wilhel- 
mina  Molloy,  daughter  of  the  late  Major  Lancelot  Gam,  R.M., 
and  granddaughter  of  the  late,  and  niece  of  the  present  Burke 
Bodkin  Blake  Molloy,  Esq.,  Molloyville,  county  Mayo." 

"  Has  the  course  of  true  love  at  last  begun  to  run 
smooth?  "  thought  I,  as  I  laid  down  the  ])aper;  and  the 
old  times,  and  the  old  leering,  bragging  widow,  and  the 
high  shoulders  of  her  daughter,  and  the  jolly  days  with 
the  120th,  and  Dr.  Jephson's  one-horse  chaise,  and  the 


442  MEN'S  WIVES 

Warwickshire  hunt,  and— and  Louisa  S ,  but  never 

mind  her,—  came  back  to  my  mind.  Has  that  good-na- 
tured, simple  fellow  at  last  met  with  his  reward?  Well, 
if  he  has  not  to  marry  the  mother-in-law  too,  he  may  get 
on  well  enough. 

Another  year  announced  the  retirement  of  Assistant- 
Surgeon  Haggarty  from  the  120th,  where  he  was  re- 
placed by  Assistant- Surgeon  Angus  Rothsay  Leech,  a 
Scotchman,  probably;  with  whom  I  have  not  the  least 
acquaintance,  and  who  has  nothing  whatever  to  do  with 
this  little  history. 

Still  more  years  passed  on,  during  which  time  I  will 
not  say  that  I  kept  a  constant  watch  upon  the  fortunes  of 
Mr.  Haggarty  and  his  lady,  for,  perhaps,  if  the  truth 
were  known,  I  never  thought  for  a  moment  about  them ; 
until  one  day,  being  at  Kingstown,  near  Dublin,  daw- 
dling on  the  beach,  and  staring  at  the  Hill  of  Howth,  as 
most  people  at  that  watering-place  do,  I  saw  coming 
towards  me  a  tall  gaunt  man,  with  a  pair  of  bushy  red 
whiskers,  of  which  I  thought  I  had  seen  the  like  in 
former  years,  and  a  face  which  could  be  no  other  than 
Haggarty's.  It  was  Haggarty,  ten  years  older  than 
when  we  last  met,  and  greatly  more  grim  and  thin.  He 
had  on  one  shoulder  a  young  gentleman  in  a  dirty  tartan 
costume,  and  a  face  exceedingly  like  his  own  peeping 
from  under  a  battered  plume  of  black  feathers,  while 
with  his  other  hand  he  was  dragging  a  light  green  go- 
cart,  in  which  reposed  a  female  infant  of  some  two  years 
old.    Both  were  roaring  with  great  power  of  lungs. 

As  soon  as  Dennis  saw  me,  his  face  lost  the  dull,  puz- 
zled expression  which  had  seemed  to  characterize  it;  he 
dropped  the  pole  of  the  go-cart  from  one  hand,  and  his 


DENNIS  HAGGARTY'S  WIFE         443 

son  from  the  other,  and  came  jumping  forward  to  greet 
me  with  all  his  might,  leaving  his  progeny  roaring  in  the 
road. 

"Bless  my  sowl,"  says  he,  "sure  it's  Fitz-Boodle? 
Fitz,  don't  you  remember  me?  Dennis  Haggarty  of 
the  120th?  Leamington,  you  know?  Molloy,  my  boy, 
hould  your  tongue,  and  stop  your  screeching,  and  Je- 
mima's too;  d'ye  hear?  Well,  it  does  good  to  sore  eyes 
to  see  an  old  face.  How  fat  you're  grown,  Fitz;  and 
were  ye  ever  in  Ireland  before?  and  a'n't  ye  delighted 
with  it?    Confess,  now,  isn't  it  beautiful?  " 

This  question  regarding  the  merits  of  their  country, 
which  I  have  remarked  is  put  by  most  Irish  persons, 
being  answered  in  a  satisfactory  manner,  and  the  shouts 
of  the  infants  appeased  from  an  apple-stall,  hard-by, 
Dennis  and  I  talked  of  old  times;  I  congratulated  him 
on  his  marriage  with  the  lovely  girl  whom  we  all  ad- 
mired, and  hoped  he  had  a  fortune  with  her,  and  so 
forth.  His  appearance,  however,  did  not  bespeak  a  great 
fortune:  he  had  an  old  grey  hat,  short  old  trousers,  an 
old  waistcoat  with  regimental  buttons,  and  patched 
Blucher  boots,  such  as  are  not  usually  sported  by  per- 
sons in  easy  life. 

"Ah!  "  says  he,  with  a  sigh,  in  reply  to  my  queries, 
"  times  are  changed  since  them  days,  Fitz-Boodle.  My 
wife's  not  what  she  was— the  beautiful  creature  you 
knew  her.  Molloy,  my  boy,  run  off  in  a  hurry  to  your 
mamma,  and  tell  her  an  English  gentleman  is  coming 
home  to  dine;  for  you'll  dine  with  me,  Fitz,  in  course? " 
And  I  agreed  to  partake  of  that  meal;  though  Master 
Molloy  altogether  declined  to  obey  his  papa's  orders 
with  respect  to  announcing  the  stranger. 

"  Well,  I  must  announce  you  myself,"  said  Hag- 


444  MEN'S  WIVES 

garty,  with  a  smile.  "  Come,  it's  just  dinner-time,  and 
my  little  cottage  is  not  a  hundred  yards  off."  Accord- 
ingly, we  all  marched  in  procession  to  Dennis's  little  cot- 
tage, which  was  one  of  a  row  and  a  half  of  one-storied 
houses,  with  little  court-yards  before  them,  and  mostly 
with  very  fine  names  on  the  door-posts  of  each.  "  Sur- 
geon Haggarty  "  was  emblazoned  on  Dennis's  gate,  on 
a  stained  green  copper-plate;  and,  not  content  with  this, 
on  the  door-post  above  the  bell  was  an  oval  with  the  in- 
scription of  "  New  Molloyville."  The  bell  was  broken, 
of  course;  the  court,  or  garden-path,  was  mouldy, 
weedy,  seedy;  there  were  some  dirty  rocks,  by  way  of 
ornament,  round  a  faded  grass-plat  in  the  centre,  some 
clothes  and  rags  hanging  out  of  most  part  of  the  win- 
dows of  New  Molloyville,  the  immediate  entrance  to 
which  was  by  a  battered  scraper,  under  a  broken  trellis- 
work,  up  which  a  withered  creeper  declined  any  longer 
to  climb. 

"Small,  but  snug,"  says  Haggarty:  "I'll  lead  the 
way,  Fitz;  put  your  hat  on  the  flower-pot  there,  and 
turn  to  the  left  into  the  drawing-room."  A  fog  of 
onions  and  turf-smoke  filled  the  whole  of  the  house,  and 
gave  signs  that  dinner  was  not  far  off.  Far  off?  You 
could  hear  it  frizzling  in  the  kitchen,  where  the  maid 
was  also  endeavouring  to  hush  the  crying  of  a  third  re- 
fractory child.  But  as  we  entered,  all  three  of  Hag- 
garty's  darlings  were  in  full  war.  , 

"  Is  it  you,  Dennis? "  cried  a  sharp  raw  voice,  from 
a  dark  corner  in  the  drawing-room  to  which  we  were 
introduced,  and  in  which  a  dirty  tablecloth  was  laid  for 
dinner,  some  bottles  of  porter  and  a  cold  mutton-bone 
being  laid  out  on  a  rickety  grand-piano  hard  by. 
"  Ye're  always  late,  Mr.  Haggarty.   Have  you  brought 


DEXXIS  HAGGARTY'S  WIFE         445 

the  whisky  from  Nowlan's?  I'll  go  bail  ye've  not 
now." 

"  My  dear,  I've  brought  an  old  friend  of  yours  and 
mine  to  take  pot-luck  with  us  to-day,"  said  Dennis. 

"When  is  he  to  come?"  said  the  lady.  At  which 
speech  I  was  rather  surprised,  for  I  stood  before  her. 

"  Here  he  is,  Jemima  my  love,"  answered  Dennis, 
looking  at  me.  "  Mr.  Fitz-Boodle;  don't  you  remember 
him  in  Warwickshire,  darling?" 

"Mr.  Fitz-Boodle!  I  am  very  glad  to  see  him,"  said 
the  lady,  rising  and  curtseying  with  much  cordiality. 

]\Irs.  Haggarty  was  blind. 

Mrs.  Haggarty  was  not  only  blind,  but  it  was  evident 
that  smallpox  had  been  the  cause  of  her  loss  of  vision. 
Her  eyes  were  bound  with  a  bandage,  her  features  were 
entirely  swollen,  scarred  and  distorted  bj'^  the  horrible 
effects  of  the  malady.  She  had  been  knitting  in  a  cor- 
ner when  we  entered,  and  was  wrapped  in  a  very  dirty 
bed-gown.  Her  voice  to  me  was  quite  different  to  that 
in  which  she  addressed  her  husband.  She  spoke  to  Hag- 
garty in  broad  Irish:  she  addressed  me  in  that  most 
odious  of  all  languages— Irish-English,  endeavouring 
to  the  utmost  to  disguise  her  brogue,  and  to  speak  with 
the  true  dawdling  distingue  English  air. 

"Are  you  long  in  I-a-land?  "  said  the  poor  creature 
in  this  accent.  "  You  must  faind  it  a  sad  ba'ba'ous 
place,  Mr.  Fitz-Boodle,  I'm  shu-ah!  It  was  vary  kaind 
of  you  to  come  upon  us  en  famille,  and  accept  a  dinner 
sans  ceremonie.  Mr.  Haggarty,  I  hope  you'll  put  the 
waine  into  aice,  Mr.  Fitz-Boodle  must  be  melted  with 
this  hot  weathah." 

For  some  time  she  conducted  the  conversation  in  tliis 
polite  strain,  and  I  was  obliged  to  say,  in  replj?-  to  a 


446  MEN'S  WIVES 

query  of  hers,  that  I  did  not  find  her  the  least  altered, 
though  I  should  never  have  recognized  her  but  for  this 
rencontre.  She  told  Haggarty  with  a  significant  air  to 
get  the  wine  from  the  cellah,  and  whispered  to  me  that 
he  was  his  own  butlah;  and  the  poor  fellow,  taking  the 
hint,  scudded  away  into  the  town  for  a  pound  of  veal 
cutlets  and  a  couple  of  bottles  of  wine  from  the  tavern. 

"  Will  the  childhren  get  their  potatoes  and  butther 
here?  "  said  a  barefoot  girl,  with  long  black  hair  flow- 
ing over  her  face,  which  she  thrust  in  at  the  door. 

"  Let  them  sup  in  the  nursery,  Elizabeth,  and  send— 
ah!  Edwards  to  me." 

"  Is  it  cook  you  mane,  ma'am?  "  said  the  girl. 

"  Send  her  at  once!  "  shrieked  the  unfortunate  wo- 
man; and  the  noise  of  frying  presently  ceasing,  a  hot 
woman  made  her  appearance,  wiping  her  brows  with 
her  apron,  and  asking,  with  an  accent  decidedly  Hiber- 
nian, what  the  misthress  wanted. 

"Lead  me  up  to  my  dressing-room,  Edwards:  I 
really  am  not  fit  to  be  seen  in  this  dishabille  by  Mr. 
Fitz-Boodle.'' 

"  Fait'  I  can't! "  says  Edwards;  "  sure  the  masther's 
out  at  the  butcher's,  and  can't  look  to  the  kitchen-fire!  " 

"  Nonsense,  I  must  go!  "  cried  Mrs.  Haggarty;  and 
so  Edwards,  putting  on  a  resigned  air,  and  giving  her 
arm  and  face  a  further  rub  with  her  apron,  held  out  her 
arm  to  Mrs.  Dennis,  and  the  pair  went  upstairs. 

She  left  me  to  indulge  my  reflections  for  half-an- 
hour,  at  the  end  of  which  period  she  came  downstairs 
dressed  in  an  old  yellow  satin,  with  the  poor  shoulders 
exposed  just  as  much  as  ever.  She  had  mounted  a 
tawdry  cap,  which  Haggarty  himself  must  have  se- 
lected for  her.    She  had  all  sorts  of  necklaces,  bracelets. 


DENNIS  HAGGARTY'S  WIFE         447 

and  earrings  in  gold,  in  garnets,  in  mother-of-pearl,  in 
ormolu.  She  brought  in  a  furious  savour  of  musk, 
which  drove  the  odours  of  onions  and  turf -smoke  before 
it;  and  she  waved  across  her  wretched,  angular,  mean, 
scarred  features,  an  old  cambric  handkerchief  with  a 
yellow  lace-border. 

"And  so  you  would  have  known  me  anywhere,  ]Mr. 
Fitz-Boodle?  "  said  she,  with  a  grin  that  was  meant  to 
be  most  fascinating.  "  I  was  sure  you  would;  for 
though  my  dreadful  illness  deprived  me  of  my  sight, 
it  is  a  mercy  that  it  did  not  change  my  features  or  com- 
plexion at  all! " 

This  mortification  had  been  spared  the  unhappy 
woman;  but  I  don't  know  whether,  with  all  her  vanity, 
her  infernal  pride,  folly,  and  selfishness,  it  was  char- 
itable to  leave  her  in  her  error. 

Yet  why  correct  her?  There  is  a  quality  in  certain 
people  which  is  above  all  advice,  exposure,  or  correction. 
Only  let  a  man  or  woman  have  dulness  sufficient,  and 
they  need  bow  to  no  extant  authority.  A  dullard  recog- 
nizes no  betters;  a  dullard  can't  see  that  he  is  in  the 
wrong;  a  dullard  has  no  sci*uples  of  conscience,  no 
doubts  of  pleasing,  or  succeeding,  or  doing  right;  no 
qualms  for  other  people's  feelings,  no  respect  but  for 
the  fool  himself.  How  can  you  make  a  fool  perceive 
that  he  is  a  fool?  Such  a  personage  can  no  more  see  his 
own  folly  than  he  can  see  his  own  ears.  And  the  great 
quality  of  Dulness  is  to  be  unalterably  contented  with 
itself.  What  myriads  of  souls  are  there  of  this  admi- 
rable sort,— selfish,  stingy,  ignorant,  passionate,  brutal; 
bad  sons,  mothers,  fathers,  never  known  to  do  kind 
actions ! 

To  pause,  however,  in  this  disquisition,  which  was 


448  MEN'S  WIVES 

carrying  us  far  off  Kingstown,  New  Molloyville,  Ire- 
land,—nay,  into  the  wide  world  wherever  Dulness  in- 
habits, let  it  be  stated  that  Mrs.  Haggarty,  from  my 
brief  acquaintance  with  her  and  her  mother,  was  of  the 
•order  of  persons  just  mentioned.  There  was  an  air  of 
conscious  merit  about  her,  very  hard  to  swallow  along 
with  the  infamous  dinner  poor  Dennis  managed,  after 
much  delay,  to  get  on  the  table.  She  did  not  fail  to 
invite  me  to  Molloyville,  where  she  said  her  cousin 
would  be  charmed  to  see  me;  and  she  told  me  almost 
as  many  anecdotes  about  that  place  as  her  mother  used 
to  impart  in  former  days.  I  observed,  moreover,  that 
Dennis  cut  her  the  favourite  pieces  of  the  beefsteak, 
that  she  ate  thereof  with  great  gusto,  and  that  she  drank 
with  similar  eagerness  of  the  various  strong  liquors  at 
table.  "  We  Irish  ladies  are  all  fond  of  a  leetle  glass 
of  punch,"  she  said,  with  a  playful  air,  and  Dennis 
mixed  her  a  powerful  tumbler  of  such  violent  grog  as 
I  myself  could  swallow  only  with  some  difficulty. 
She  talked  of  her  suffering  a  great  deal,  of  her  sacri- 
fices, of  the  luxuries  to  which  she  had  been  accus- 
tomed before  marriage,— in  a  word,  of  a  hundred  of 
those  themes  on  which  some  ladies  are  in  the  custom  of 
enlarging  when  they  wish  to  plague  some  husbands. 

But  honest  Dennis,  far  from  being  angry  at  this  per- 
petual, wearisome,  impudent  recurrence  to  her  own  su- 
periority, rather  encouraged  the  conversation  than 
otherwise.  It  pleased  him  to  hear  his  wife  discourse 
about  her  merits  and  family  splendours.  He  was  so 
thoroughly  beaten  down  and  henpecked,  that  he,  as  it 
were,  gloried  in  his  servitude,  and  fancied  that  his  wife's 
magnificence  reflected  credit  on  himself.  He  looked 
towards  me,  who  was  half  sick  of  the  woman  and  her 


DENNIS  HAGGARTY'S  WIFE         449 

egotism,  as  if  expecting  me  to  exhibit  the  deepest  sym- 
pathy, and  flung  me  glances  across  the  table  as  much 
as  to  say,  "  What  a  gifted  creature  my  Jemima  is,  and 
what  a  fine  fellow  I  am  to  be  in  possession  of  her! " 
When  the  children  came  down  she  scolded  them,  of 
course,  and  dismissed  them  abruptly  (for  which  circum- 
stance, perhaps,  the  writer  of  these  pages  was  not  in 
his  heart  very  sorry),  and,  after  having  sat  a  preposter- 
ously long  time,  left  us,  asking  whether  we  would  have 
coffee  there  or  in  her  boudoir. 

"Oh!  here,  of  course,"  said  Dennis,  with  rather  a 
troubled  air;  and  in  about  ten  minutes  the  lovely  crea- 
ture was  led  back  to  us  again  by  "  Edwards,"  and  the 
coffee  made  its  appearance.  After  coffee  her  husband 
begged  her  to  let  Mr.  Fitz-Boodle  hear  her  voice:  "  He 
longs  for  some  of  his  old  favourites." 

"  No!  do  you? "  said  she;  and  was  led  in  triumph  to 
the  jingling  old  piano,  and  with  a  screechy,  wiry  voice, 
sung  those  very  abominable  old  ditties  which  I  had 
heard  her  sing  at  Leamington  ten  years  back. 

Haggarty,  as  she  sang,  flung  himself  back  in  the 
chair  delighted.  Husbands  always  are,  and  with  the 
same  song,  one  that  they  have  heard  when  they  were 
nineteen  years  old,  probably;  most  Englishmen's  tunes 
have  that  date,  and  it  is  rather  affecting,  I  think,  to  hear 
an  old  gentleman  of  sixty  or  seventy  quavering  the  old 
ditty  that  was  fresh  when  lie  was  fresh  and  in  his  prime. 
If  he  has  a  musical  wife,  depend  on  it  he  thinks  her  old 
songs  of  1788  are  better  than  any  he  has  heard  since: 
in  fact  he  has  heard  none  since.  When  the  old  couple 
are  in  high  good-humour  the  old  gentleman  will  take  the 
old  lady  round  the  waist,  and  say,  "  My  dear,  do  sing 
me  one  of  your  own  songs,"  and  she  sits  down  and  sings 


450  MEN'S  WIVES 

with  her  old  voice,  and,  as  she  sings,  the  roses  of  her  youth 
bloom  again  for  a  moment.  Ranelagh  resuscitates,  and 
she  is  dancing  a  minuet  in  powder  and  a  train. 

This  is  another  digression.  It  was  occasioned  by 
looking  at  poor  Dennis's  face  while  his  wife  was 
screeching  (and,  believe  me,  the  former  was  the  most 
pleasant  occupation).  Bottom  tickled  by  the  fairies 
could  not  have  been  in  greater  ecstasies.  He  thought 
the  music  was  divine ;  and  had  further  reason  for  exult- 
ing in  it,  which  was,  that  his  wife  was  always  in  a  good 
humour  after  singing,  and  never  would  sing  but  in  that 
happy  frame  of  mind.  Dennis  had  hinted  so  much  in 
our  little  colloquy  during  the  ten  minutes  of  his  lady's 
absence  in  the  "  boudoir;  "  so,  at  the  conclusion  of  each 
piece,  we  shouted  "Bravo!"  and  clajDped  our  hands 
like  mad. 

Such  was  my  insight  into  the  life  of  Surgeon  Dio- 
nysius  Haggarty  and  his  wife;  and  I  must  have  come 
upon  him  at  a  favourable  moment  too,  for  jioor  Dennis 
has  spoken,  subsequently,  of  our  delightful  evening  at 
Kingstown,  and  evidently  thinks  to  this  day  that  his 
friend  was  fascinated  by  the  entertainment  there.  His 
inward  economy  was  as  follows:  he  had  his  half  pay, 
a  thousand  pounds,  about  a  hundred  a  year  that  his 
father  left,  and  his  wife  had  sixty  pounds  a  year  from 
the  mother;  which  the  mother,  of  course,  never  paid. 
He  had  no  practice,  for  he  was  absorbed  in  attention 
to  his  Jemima  and  the  children,  whom  he  used  to  wash, 
to  dress,  to  carry  out,  to  M^alk,  or  to  ride,  as  we  have 
seen,  and  who  could  not  have  a  servant,  as  their  dear 
blind  mother  could  never  be  left  alone.  Mrs.  Hag- 
garty,  a  great  invalid,  used  to  lie  in  bed  till  one,  and 
have  breakfast  and  hot  luncheon  there.    A  fifth  part  of 


DENNIS  HAGGARTY'S  WIFE         451 

his  income  was  spent  in  having  her  wheeled  about  in  a 
chair,  by  which  it  was  his  dut}'  to  walk  daily  for  an 
allotted  number  of  hours.  Dinner  would  ensue,  and  the 
amateur  clergy,  who  abound  in  Ireland,  and  of  whom 
Mrs.  Haggarty  was  a  great  admirer,  lauded  her  every- 
where as  a  model  of  resignation  and  virtue,  and  praised 
beyond  measure  the  admirable  piety  Avith  which  she  bore 
her  sufferings. 

Well,  every  man  to  his  taste.  It  did  not  certainly  ap- 
pear to  me  that  she  was  the  martyr  of  the  family. 

"  The  circumstances  of  my  marriage  with  Jemima," 
Dennis  said  to  me,  in  some  after  conversations  we  had 
on  this  interesting  subject,  "were  the  most  romantic 
and  touching  you  can  conceive.  You  saw  what  an  im- 
pression the  dear  girl  had  made  upon  me  when  we  were 
at  Weedon;  for  from  the  first  day  I  set  eyes  on  her, 
and  heard  her  sing  her  delightful  song  of  '  Dark-eyed 
JNIaiden  of  Araby,'  I  felt,  and  said  to  Turniquet  of  ours, 
that  very  night,  that  she  was  the  dark-eyed  maid  of 
Araby  for  me,— not  that  she  was,  you  know,  for  she  was 
born  in  Shropshire.  But  I  felt  that  I  had  seen  the  wo- 
man who  was  to  make  me  happy  or  miserable  for  life. 
You  know  how  I  proposed  for  her  at  Kenilworth,  and 
how  I  was  rejected,  and  how  I  almost  shot  myself  in 
consequence,— no,  you  don't  know  that,  for  I  said  no- 
thing about  it  to  any  one,  but  I  can  tell  you  it  was  a 
very  near  thing;  and  a  very  lucky  thing  for  me  I  didn't 
do  it:  for,— would  you  believe  it?— the  dear  girl  was  in 
love  with  me  all  the  time." 

"  Was  she  really?  "  said  I,  who  recollected  that  Miss 
Gam's  love  of  those  days  showed  itself  in  a  very  singu- 
lar manner ;  but  the  fact  is,  when  women  are  most  in  love 
they  most  disguise  it. 


452  MEN'S  WIVES 

"  Over  head  and  ears  in  love  with  poor  Dennis,"  re- 
sumed that  worthv  fellow,  "  who'd  ever  have  thought 
it?  But  I  have  it  from  the  best  authority,  from  her 
own  mother,  with  whom  I"m  not  over  and  above  good 
friends  now;  but  of  this  fact  she  assured  me,  and  I'll 
tell  you  when  and  how. 

"  We  were  quartered  at  Cork  three  years  after  we 
were  at  Weedon,  and  it  was  our  last  year  at  home ;  and 
a  great  mercy  that  my  dear  girl  spoke  in  time,  or  where 
should  we  have  been  nozc?  Well,  one  day,  marching 
home  from  parade,  I  saw  a  lady  seated  at  an  ojDen  win- 
dow by  another  who  seemed  an  invalid,  and  the  lady  at 
the  window,  who  was  dressed  in  the  profoundest  mourn- 
ing, cried  out,  with  a  scream,  '  Gracious  heavens!  it's 
Mr.  Haggartv  of  the  120th; 

"  '  Sure  I  know  that  voice,'  says  I  to  Whiskerton. 

"  '  It's  a  great  mercy  you  don't  know  it  a  deal  too 
well,'  says  he:  '  it's  Lady  Gammon.  She's  on  some  hus- 
band-hunting scheme,  depend  on  it,  for  that  daughter 
of  hers.  She  was  at  Bath  last  year  on  the  same  errand, 
and  at  Cheltenham  the  year  before,  where,  heaven  bless 
you!  she's  as  well  known  as  the  "  Hen  and  Chickens."  ' 
I'll  thank  you  not  to  speak  disrespectfully  of  ]Miss 
Jemima  Gam,'  said  I  to  Whiskerton;  '  she's  of  one  of 
the  first  families  in  Ireland,  and  whoever  says  a  word 
against  a  woman  I  once  proposed  for,  insults  me,  —  do 
you  understand? ' 

Well,  marry  her,  if  you  like,'  says  Whiskerton, 
quite  peevish :  '  marry  her,  and  be  hanged ! ' 

"  Marry  her !  the  very  idea  of  it  set  my  brain  a-whirl- 
ing,  and  made  me  a  thousand  times  more  mad  than  I 
am  by  nature. 

"  You  may  be  sure  I  walked  up  the  hill  to  the  parade- 


DEXXIS   HAGGARTY'S  WIFE         453 

ground  that  afternoon,  and  with  a  beating  heart  too. 
I  came  to  the  widow's  house.  It  was  called  '  Xew  ]Mol- 
loyville,'  as  this  is.  Wherever  she  takes  a  house  for  six 
months,  she  calls  it  '  Xew  ]Molloyville ;  '  and  has  had 
one  in  ^Mallow,  in  Bandon,  in  Sligo,  in  Castlebar,  in 
Fermoy,  in  Drogheda,  and  the  deuce  knows  where  be- 
sides :  but  the  blinds  were  down,  and  though  I  thought 
I  saw^  somebody  behind  'em,  no  notice  was  taken  of  poor 
Denny  Haggarty,  and  I  paced  up  and  down  all  mess- 
time  in  hopes  of  catching  a  glimpse  of  Jemima,  but  in 
vain.  The  next  day  I  was  on  the  ground  again;  I  was 
just  as  much  in  love  as  ever,  that's  the  fact.  I'd  never 
been  in  that  way  before,  look  you;  and  when  once 
caught,  I  knew  it  was  for  life. 

"  There's  no  use  in  telling  you  how  long  I  beat  about 
the  bush,  but  when  I  did  get  admittance  to  the  house 
(it  was  through  the  means  of  young  Castlereagh  Mol- 
loy,  whom  you  may  remember  at  Leamington,  and  who 
was  at  Cork  for  the  regatta,  and  used  to  dine  at  our 
mess,  and  had  taken  a  mighty  fancy  to  me)  — when  I 
did  get  into  the  house,  I  say,  I  rushed  in  medias  res  at 
once:  I  couldn't  keep  mvself  quiet,  mv  heart  was  too 
full. 

"Oh,  Fitz!  I  shall  never  forget  the  day,— the  mo- 
ment I  was  inthro juiced  into  the  dthrawing-room " 
(as  he  began  to  be  agitated,  Dennis's  brogue  broke  out 
with  greater  richness  than  ever;  but  though  a  stranger 
may  catch,  and  repeat  from  memory,  a  few  words,  it 
is  next  to  impossible  for  him  to  hcep  up  a  conversation 
in  Irish,  so  that  we  had  best  give  up  all  attempts  to 
imitate  Dennis).  "When  I  saw  old  ^lother  Gam," 
said  he,  "  my  feelings  overcame  me  all  at  once.  I 
rowled  down  on  the  ground,  sir,  as  if  I'd  been  hit  by 


454  MEN'S  WIVES 

a  musket-ball.     '  Dearest  madam,'  says  I,  '  I'll  die  if 
you  don't  give  me  Jemima.' 

"'Heavens,  Mr.  Haggarty!'  says  she,  'how  you 
seize  me  with  surprise!  Castlereagh  my  dear  nephew, 
had  you  not  better  leave  us  ? '  and  away  he  Avent,  light- 
ing a  cigar,  and  leaving  me  still  on  the  floor. 

Rise,  ]Mr.  Haggarty,'  continued  the  widow.  '  I 
will  not  attemx^t  to  deny  that  this  constancy  towards 
my  daughter  is  extremely  affecting,  however  sudden 
your  present  appeal  may  be.  I  will  not  attempt  to  deny 
that,  perhaps,  Jemima  may  have  a  similar  feeling ;  but, 
as  I  said,  I  never  could  give  my  daughter  to  a  Catholic' 

"  '  I'm  as  good  a  Protestant  as  yourself,  ma'am,'  says 
I ;  '  my  mother  was  an  heiress,  and  we  were  all  brought 
up  her  way.' 

That  makes  the  matter  very  different,'  says  she, 
turning  up  the  whites  of  her  eyes.  '  How  could  I  ever 
have  reconciled  it  to  my  conscience  to  see  my  blessed 
child  married  to  a  Papist?  How  could  I  ever  have 
taken  him  to  Molloy ville  ?  Well,  this  obstacle  being  re- 
moved, I  must  put  myself  no  longer  in  the  way  be- 
tween two  young  people.  I  must  sacrifice  myself;  as  I 
always  have  when  my  darling  girl  was  in  question.  You 
shall  see  her,  the  poor  dear,  lovely,  gentle  sufferer,  and 
learn  your  fate  from  her  own  lips.' 

The  sufferer,  ma'am,'  says  I;  '  has  Miss  Gam  been 
ill?' 

"'What!  haven't  you  heard?'  cried  the  widow. 
'  Haven't  you  heard  of  the  dreadful  illness  which  so 
nearly  carried  her  from  me?  For  nine  weeks,  Mr.  Hag- 
garty, I  watched  her  day  and  night,  without  taking  a 
wink  of  sleep,— for  nine  weeks  she  lay  trembling  be- 
tween death  and  life ;  and  I  paid  the  doctor  eighty-three 


DENNIS   HAGGARTY'S   WIFE         455 

guineas.  She  is  restored  now ;  but  she  is  the  wreck  of  the 
beautiful  creature  she  was.  Suffering,  and,  perhaps, 
another  disappointment— hut  we  won't  mention  that 
now— have  so  pulled  her  down.  But  I  will  leave  you, 
and  prepare  my  sweet  girl  for  this  strange,  this  entirely 
unexpected  visit.' 

"  I  won't  tell  you  what  took  place  between  me  and  Je- 
mima, to  whom  I  was  introduced  as  she  sat  in  the  dark- 
ened room,  poor  sufferer!  nor  describe  to  you  with 
what  a  thrill  of  joy  I  seized  (after  groping  about  for  it) 
her  poor  emaciated  hand.  She  did  not  withdraw^  it;  I 
came  out  of  that  room  an  engaged  man,  sir;  and  now  I 
w^as  enabled  to  show  her  that  I  had  always  loved  her  sin- 
cerely, for  there  was  my  will,  made  three  years  back,  in 
her  favour:  that  night  she  refused  me,  as  I  told  ye.  I 
would  have  shot  myself,  but  they'd  have  brought  me  in 
non  compos;  and  my  brother  Mick  w^ould  have  contested 
the  will,  and  so  I  determined  to  live,  in  order  that  she 
might  benefit  by  my  dying.  I  had  but  a  thousand 
pounds  then :  since  that  my  father  has  left  me  two  more. 
I  willed  every  shilling  to  her,  as  you  may  fancy,  and  set- 
tled it  upon  her  when  we  married,  as  we  did  soon  after. 
It  was  not  for  some  time  that  I  was  allowed  to  see  the 
poor  girl's  face,  or,  indeed,  was  aware  of  the  liorrid  loss 
she  had  sustained.  Fancy  my  agony,  my  dear  fellow, 
when  I  saw  that  beautiful  wreck!  " 

There  was  something  not  a  little  affecting  to  think,  in 
the  conduct  of  this  brave  fellow,  that  he  never  once,  as 
he  told  his  story,  seemed  to  allude  to  tlie  possibility  of  his 
declining  to  marry  a  woman  who  was  not  the  same  as  the 
woman  he  loved ;  but  that  he  was  (juite  as  faithful  to  her 
now,  as  he  had  been  when  captivated  by  the  poor  tawdry 
charms  of  the  silly  JMiss  of  Leamington.     It  was  hard 


456  MEN'S  WIVES 

that  such  a  noble  heart  as  this  should  be  flung  away  upon 
yonder  foul  mass  of  greedy  vanity.  Was  it  hard,  or  not, 
that  he  should  remain  deceived  in  his  obstinate  humility, 
and  continue  to  admire  the  selfish,  silly  being  whom  he 
had  chosen  to  worship? 

"  I  should  have  been  appointed  surgeon  of  the  regi- 
ment," continued  Dennis,  "  soon  after,  when  it  was  or- 
dered abroad  to  Jamaica,  where  it  now  is.  But  my  wife 
would  not  hear  of  going,  and  said  she  would  break  her 
heart  if  she  left  her  mother.  So  I  retired  on  half -pay, 
and  took  this  cottage ;  and  in  case  any  practice  should  fall 
in  my  way— why,  there  is  my  name  on  the  brass  plate, 
and  I'm  ready  for  anything  that  comes.  But  the  only 
case  that  ever  did  come  w  as  one  day  when  I  was  driving 
my  wife  in  the  chaise,  and  another,  one  night,  of  a  beg- 
gar with  a  broken  head.  My  wife  makes  me  a  present  of 
a  baby  every  year,  and  we've  no  debts ;  and  between  you 
and  me  and  the  post,  as  long  as  my  mother-in-law  is  out 
of  the  house,  I'm  as  happy  as  I  need  be." 

"What!  you  and  the  old  lady  don't  get  on  well?" 
said  I. 

"  I  can't  say  we  do;  it's  not  in  nature,  you  know,"  said 
Dennis,  with  a  faint  grin.  "  She  comes  into  the  house, 
and  turns  it  topsy-turvy.  When  she's  here  I'm  obliged 
to  sleep  in  the  scullery.  She's  never  paid  her  daughter's 
income  since  the  first  year,  though  she  brags  about  her 
sacrifices  as  if  she  had  ruined  herself  for  Jemima;  and 
besides,  when  she's  here,  there's  a  whole  clan  of  the  Mol- 
loys,  horse,  foot,  and  dragoons,  that  are  quartered  upon 
us,  and  eat  me  out  of  house  and  home." 

"And  is  Molloyville  such  a  fine  place  as  the  widow  de- 
scribed it?  "  asked  I,  laughing,  and  not  a  little  curious. 

"Oh,   a  mighty  fine   place   entirely!"   said   Dennis. 


DENNIS  HAGGARTY'S  WIFE         457 

"  There's  the  oak  park  of  two  hundred  acres,  the  finest 
land  ye  ever  saw,  only  they've  cut  all  the  wood  down. 
The  garden  in  the  old  Molloy's  time,  they  say,  was  the 
finest  ever  seen  in  the  West  of  Ireland ;  but  they've  taken 
all  the  glass  to  mend  the  house  windows :  and  small  blame 
to  them  either.  There's  a  clear  rent-roll  of  three  and 
fifty  hundred  a  year,  only  it's  in  the  hand  of  receivers; 
besides  other  debts,  on  which  there  is  no  land  security." 
"Your  cousin-in-law,  Castlereagh  Molloy,  won't 
come  into  a  large  fortune?  " 

"  Oh,  he'll  do  very  well,"  said  Dennis.     "As  long  as 
he  can  get  credit,  he's  not  the  fellow  to  stint  himself. 
Faith,  I  was  fool  enough  to  put  my  name  to  a  bit  of 
paper  for  him,  and  as  they  could  not  catch  him  in  Mayo, 
they  laid  hold  of  me  at  Kingstown  here.    And  there  was 
a  pretty  to  do.    Didn't  Mrs.  Gam  say  I  was  ruining  her 
family,  that's  all?    I  paid  it  by  instalments  (for  all  my 
money  is  settled  on  Jemima)  ;  and  Castlereagh,  who's  an 
honourable  fellow,  offered  me  any  satisfaction  in  life. 
Anyhow,  he  couldn't  do  more  than  that/' 
"  Of  course  not,  and  now  you're  friends?  " 
"  Yes,  and  he  and  his  aunt  have  had  a  tiff,  too ;  and  he 
abuses  her  properly,  I  warrant  ye.    He  says  that  she  car- 
ried about  Jemima  from  place  to  place,  and  flung  her  at 
the  head  of  every  unmarried  man  in  England  a'most,— 
my  poor  Jemima,  and  she  all  the  while  dying  in  love  with 
me!    As  soon  as  she  got  over  the  small-pox— she  took  it 
at  Fermoy— God  bless  her,  I  wish  I'd  been  by  to  be  her 
nurse-tender,— as  soon  as  she  was  rid  of  it,  the  old  lady 
said  to  Castlereagh, '  Castlereagh,  go  to  the  bar'cks,  and 
find  out  in  the  Army  List  where  the  120th  is.'    Off  she 
came  to  Cork  hot  foot.    It  appears  that  while  she  was  ill, 
Jemima's  love  for  me  showed  itself  in  such  a  violent  way 


458  MEN'S  WIVES 

that  her  mother  was  overcome,  and  promised  that,  should 
the  dear  child  recover,  she  would  try  and  bring  us  to- 
gether. Castlereagh  says  she  would  have  gone  after  us 
to  Jamaica." 

"  I  have  no  doubt  she  would,"  said  I. 

"  Could  you  have  a  stronger  proof  of  love  than  that?  " 
cried  Dennis.  "  My  dear  girl's  illness  and  frightful 
blindness  have,  of  course,  injured  her  health  and  her  tem- 
per. She  cannot  in  her  position  look  to  the  children,  you 
know,  and  so  they  come  under  my  charge  for  the  most 
part ;  and  her  temper  is  unequal,  certainly.  But  you  see 
what  a  sensitive,  refined,  elegant  creature  she  is,  and  may 
fancy  that  she's  often  put  out  by  a  rough  fellow  like  me." 

Here  Dennis  left  me,  saying  it  was  time  to  go  and 
walk  out  the  children;  and  I  think  his  story  has  matter 
of  some  wholesome  reflection  in  it  for  bachelors  who  are 
about  to  change  their  condition,  or  may  console  some 
who  are  mourning  their  celibacy.  Marry,  gentlemen,  if 
you  like;  leave  your  comfortable  dinner  at  the  club  for 
cold-mutton  and  curl-papers  at  your  home ;  give  up  your 
books  or  pleasures,  and  take  to  yourselves  wives  and  chil- 
dren; but  think  well  on  what  you  do  first,  as  I  have  no 
doubt  you  will  after  this  advice  and  example.  Advice  is 
always  useful  in  matters  of  love;  men  always  take  it; 
they  always  follow  other  people's  opinions,  not  their 
own:  they  always  profit  by  example.  When  the}^  see  a 
pretty  woman,  and  feel  the  delicious  madness  of  love 
coming  over  them,  they  always  stop  to  calculate  her  tem- 
per, her  money,  their  own  money,  or  suitableness  for  the 
married  life.  .  .  .  Ha,  ha,  ha!  Let  us  fool  in  this  way 
no  more.  I  have  been  in  love  forty-three  times  with  all 
ranks  and  conditions  of  women,  and  would  have  married 
every  time  if  they  would  have  let  me.    How  many  wives 


DENNIS  HAGGARTY'S  WIFE         459 

had  King  Solomon,  the  wisest  of  men?  And  is  not  that 
story  a  warning  to  us  that  Love  is  master  of  the  wisest? 
It  is  only  fools  who  defy  him. 

I  must  come,  however,  to  the  last,  and  perhaps  the  sad- 
dest, part  of  poor  Denny  Haggarty's  history.  I  met 
him  once  more,  and  in  such  a  condition  as  made  me  deter- 
mine to  write  this  history. 

In  the  month  of  June  last  I  happened  to  be  at  Rich- 
mond, a  delightful  little  place  of  retreat ;  and  there,  sun- 
ning himself  upon  the  terrace,  was  my  old  friend  of  the 
120th:  he  looked  older,  thinner,  poorer,  and  more 
wretched  than  I  had  ever  seen  him.  "  What!  you  have 
given  up  Kingstown?  "  said  I,  shaking  him  by  the  hand. 

"  Yes,"  says  he. 

"  And  is  my  lady  and  your  family  here  at  Richmond?  " 

"  No,"  says  he,  with  a  sad  shake  of  the  head ;  and  the 
poor  fellow's  hollow  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

**  Good  heavens,  Denny!  what's  the  matter?  "  said  I. 
He  was  squeezing  my  hand  like  a  vice  as  I  spoke. 

"They've  left  me!"  he  burst  out  with  a  dreadful 
shout  of  passionate  grief — a  horrible  scream  which 
seemed  to  be  wrenched  out  of  his  heart.  "  Left  me!  " 
said  he,  sinking  down  on  a  seat,  and  clenching  his  great 
fists,  and  shaking  his  lean  arms  wildly.  "  I'm  a  wise  man 
now,  Mr.  Fitz-Boodle.  Jemima  has  gone  away  from 
me,  and  yet  you  know  how  I  loved  her,  and  how  happy 
we  were!  I've  got  nobody  now;  but  I'll  die  soon,  that's 
one  comfort:  and  to  think  it's  she  that'll  kill  me  after 
all!" 

The  story,  which  he  told  with  a  wild  and  furious  lam- 
entation such  as  is  not  known  among  men  of  our  cooler 
country,  and  such  as  I  don't  like  now  to  recall,  was  a  very 
simple  one.    The  mother-in-law  had  taken  possession  of 


460  MEN'S  WIVES 

the  house,  and  had  driven  him  from  it.  His  property  at 
his  marriage  was  settled  on  his  wife.  She  had  never 
loved  him,  and  told  him  this  secret  at  last,  and  drove  him 
out  of  doors  with  her  selfish  scorn  and  ill  temper.  The 
boy  had  died ;  the  girls  were  better,  he  said,  brought  up 
among  the  Molloys  than  they  could  be  with  him ;  and  so 
he  was  quite  alone  in  the  world,  and  was  living,  or  rather 
dying,  on  forty  pounds  a  year. 

His  troubles  are  very  likely  over  by  this  time.  The 
two  fools  who  caused  his  misery  will  never  read  this  his- 
tory of  him;  tliey  never  read  godless  stories  in  maga- 
zines: and  I  wish,  honest  reader,  that  you  and  I  went  to 
church  as  much  as  they  do.  These  people  are  not  wicked 
because  of  their  religious  observances,  but  m  spite  of 
them.  They  are  too  dull  to  understand  humility,  too 
blind  to  see  a  tender  and  simple  heart  under  a  rough  un- 
gainly bosom.  They  are  sure  that  all  their  conduct  to- 
wards my  poor  friend  here  has  been  perfectly  righteous, 
and  that  they  have  given  proofs  of  the  most  Christian 
virtue.  Haggarty's  wife  is  considered  by  her  friends 
as  a  martyr  to  a  savage  husband,  and  her  mother  is  the 
angel  that  has  come  to  rescue  her.  All  they  did  was  to 
cheat  him  and  desert  him.  And  safe  in  that  wonderful 
self-complacency  with  which  the  fools  of  this  earth  are 
endowed,  they  have  not  a  single  pang  of  conscience  for 
their  villainy  towards  him,  and  consider  their  heartless- 
ness  as  a  proof  and  consequence  of  their  spotless  piety 
and  virtue. 


THE   HISTORY 

OF  THE 

NEXT   FRENCH   REVOLUTION 


THE   HISTORY 

OF  THE 


NEXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTION 

[^From  a  forthcoming  History  of  Europe'\ 


CHAPTER    I 


IT  is  seldom  that  the  historian  has  to  record  events 
more  singular  than  those  which  occurred  during  this 
year,  when  the  Crown  of  France  was  battled  for  by  no 
less  than  four  pretenders,  with  equal  claims,  merits, 
bravery,  and  popularity.  First  in  the  list  we  place — 
His  Royal  Highness  Louis  Anthony  Frederick  Samuel 
Anna-Maria,  Duke  of  Brittany,  and  son  of  Louis  XVI. 
The  unhappy  Prince,  when  a  prisoner  with  his  unfortu- 
nate parents  in  the  Temple,  was  enabled  to  escape  from 
that  place  of  confinement,  hidden  (for  the  treatment  of 
the  ruffians  who  guarded  him  had  caused  the  young 
Prince  to  dwindle  down  astonishingly)  in  the  cocked- 
hat  of  the  Representative,  Roederer.  It  is  well  known 
that,  in  the  troublous  revolutionary  times,  cocked-hats 
were  worn  of  a  considerable  size. 

He  passed  a  considerable  part  of  his  life  in  Germany; 
was  confined  tliere  for  thirty  years  in  the  dungeons  of 
Spielberg;  and,  escaping  thence  to  Enghmd,  was,  under 
pretence  of  debt,  but  in  reality  from  ])()litical  hatred, 
imprisoned  there  also  in  the  Tower  of  London.     He 

463 


464  THE   HISTORY   OF   THE 

must  not  be  confounded  with  any  other  of  the  persons 
who  laid  claim  to  be  children  of  the  unfortunate  victim 
of  the  first  Revolution. 

The  next  claimant,  Henri  of  Bordeaux,  is  better 
known.  In  the  year  1843  he  held  his  little  fugitive 
court  in  furnished  lodgings,  in  a  forgotten  district  of 
London,  called  Belgrave  Square.  Many  of  the  nobles 
of  France  flocked  thither  to  him,  despising  the  perse- 
cutions of  the  occupant  of  the  throne;  and  some  of  the 
chiefs  of  the  British  nobility— among  whom  may  be 
'reckoned  the  celebrated  and  chivalrous  Duke  of  Jenkins 
—aided  the  adventurous  young  Prince  with  their  coun- 
sels, their  wealth,  and  their  valour. 

The  third  candidate  was  his  Imperial  Highness 
Prince  John  Thomas  Napoleon— a  fourteenth  cousin 
of  the  late  Emperor;  and  said  by  some  to  be  a  Prince 
of  the  House  of  Gomersal.  He  argued  justly  that, 
as  the  immediate  relatives  of  the  celebrated  Corsican 
had  declined  to  compete  for  the  crown  which  was  their 
right,  he.  Prince  John  Thomas,  being  next  in  succes- 
sion, was,  undoubtedly,  heir  to  the  vacant  imperial 
throne.  And  in  support  of  his  claim,  he  appealed  to 
the  fidelity  of  Frenchmen  and  the  strength  of  his  good 
sword. 

His  Majesty  Louis  Philippe  was,  it  need  not  be  said, 
the  illustrious  wielder  of  the  sceptre  which  the  three 
above-named  princes  desired  to  wrest  from  him.  It  does 
not  appear  that  the  sagacious  monarch  was  esteemed 
by  his  subjects,  as  such  a  prince  should  have  been  es- 
teemed. The  light-minded  people,  on  the  contrary, 
were  rather  weary  than  otherwise  of  his  sway.  They 
were  not  in  the  least  attached  to  his  amiable  family, 
for  whom  his  ]Majesty  with  characteristic  thrift  had 


NEXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTION        465 

endeavoured  to  procure  satisfactory  allowances.  And 
the  leading  statesmen  of  the  country,  whom  his  oNIaj- 
esty  had  disgusted,  were  suspected  of  entertaining  any 
but  feelings  of  loyalty  towards  his  house  and  person. 

It  was  against  the  above-named  pretenders  that 
Louis  Philippe  (now  nearly  a  hundred  years  old),  a 
prince  amongst  sovereigns,  was  called  upon  to  defend 
his  crown. 

The  city  of  Paris  was  guarded,  as  we  all  know,  by  a 
hundred  and  twenty-four  forts,  of  a  thousand  guns 
each — provisioned  for  a  considerable  time,  and  all  so 
constructed  as  to  fire,  if  need  were,  upon  the  palace  of 
the  Tuileries.  Thus,  should  the  mob  attack  it,  as  in  Au- 
gust 1792,  and  July  1830,  the  building  could  be  razed 
to  the  ground  in  an  hour;  thus,  too,  the  capital  was 
quite  secure  from  foreign  invasion.  Another  defence 
against  the  foreigners  was  the  state  of  the  roads.  Since 
the  English  companies  had  retired,  half  a  mile  only 
of  railroad  had  been  completed  in  France,  and  thus  any 
army  accustomed,  as  those  of  Europe  now  are,  to  move 
at  sixty  miles  an  hour,  would  have  been  cnnuifc'd  to 
death  before  they  could  have  marched  from  the  Rhen- 
ish, the  Maritime,  the  Alpine,  or  the  Pyrenean  frontier 
upon  the  capital  of  France.  The  French  people,  how- 
ever, were  indignant  at  this  defect  of  comnninication 
in  their  territory,  and  said,  without  the  least  show  of 
reason,  that  they  would  have  preferred  that  the  five 
hundred  and  seventy-five  thousand  bilhons  of  francs 
which  had  been  expended  upon  tlic  fortifications  should 
have  been  laid  out  in  a  more  peaceful  manner.  How- 
ever, behind  his  forts,  tlie  Iving  lay  secure. 

As  it  is  our  aim  to  depict  in  as  \  ivid  a  manner  as 
possible  the  strange  events  of  the  period,  the  actions,  the 


466  THE   HISTORY   OF   THE 

passions  of  individuals  and  parties  engaged,  we  can- 
not better  describe  them  than  by  referring  to  contempo- 
rary documents,  of  which  there  is  no  lack.  It  is  amusing 
at  the  present  day  to  read  in  the  pages  of  the  Moniteur 
and  the  Journal  des  Debats  the  accounts  of  the  strange 
scenes  which  took  place. 

The  year  1884  had  opened  very  tranquilly.  The 
Court  of  the  Tuileries  had  been  extremely  gay.  The 
three-and-twenty  youngest  Princes  of  England,  sons 
of  her  Majesty  Victoria,  had  enlivened  the  balls  by  their 
presence;  the  Emperor  of  Russia  and  family  had  paid 
their  accustomed  visit;  and  the  King  of  the  Belgians 
had,  as  usual,  made  his  visit  to  his  royal  father-in-law, 
under  pretence  of  duty  and  pleasure,  but  really  to  de- 
mand payment  of  the  Queen  of  the  Belgians'  dowry, 
which  Louis  Philippe  of  Orleans  still  resolutely  declined 
to  pay.  Who  would  have  thought  that  in  the  midst  of 
such  festivity  danger  was  lurking  rife,  in  the  midst  of 
such  quiet,  rebellion? 

Charenton  was  the  great  lunatic  asylum  of  Paris,  and 
it  was  to  this  repository  that  the  scornful  journalist  con- 
signed the  pretender  to  the  throne  of  Louis  XVI. 

But  on  the  next  day,  viz.  Saturday,  the  29th  Febru- 
ary, the  same  journal  contained  a  paragraph  of  a  much 
more  startling  and  serious  import;  in  which,  although 
under  a  mask  of  carelessness,  it  was  easy  to  see  the 
Government  alarai. 

On  Friday,  the  28th  February,  the  Journal  des  De- 
bats  contained  a  paragraph,  which  did  not  occasion 
much  sensation  at  the  Bourse,  so  absurd  did  its  contents 
seem.     It  ran  as  follows. — 

"  Encore  un  Louis  XVII. !  A  letter  from  Calais 
tells  us  that  a  strange  personage  lately  landed  from 


NEXT  FREXCH  REYOLUTIOX        467 

England  (from  Bedlam  we  believe)  has  been  giving 
himself  out  to  be  the  son  of  the  unfortunate  Louis  XVI. 
This  is  the  twenty-fourth  pretender  of  the  species  who 
has  asserted  that  his  father  was  the  august  victim  of 
the  Temple.  Beyond  his  pretensions,  the  poor  crea- 
ture is  said  to  be  pretty  harmless;  he  is  accompanied 
by  one  or  two  old  women,  who  declare  they  recognize  in 
him  the  Dauj^hin;  he  does  not  make  any  attempt  to 
seize  upon  his  throne  by  force  of  arms,  but  waits  until 
heaven  shall  conduct  him  to  it. 

"  If  his  INIajesty  comes  to  Paris,  we  presume  he  will 
take  up  his  quarters  in  the  palace  of  Charcnton. 

"  We  have  not  before  alluded  to  certain  rumours 
which  have  been  afloat  (among  the  lowest  canaille  and 
the  vilest  estaminets  of  the  metropolis) ,  that  a  notorious 
personage — why  should  we  hesitate  to  mention  the 
name  of  the  Prince  John  Thomas  Xapoleon?— has  en- 
tered France  with  culpable  intentions,  and  revolution- 
ary views.  The  Moniteur  of  this  morning,  however, 
confirms  the  disgraceful  fact.  A  pretender  is  on  our 
shores;  an  armed  assassin  is  threatening  our  peaceful 
liberties;  a  wandering,  homeless  cut-throat  is  robbing 
on  our  highways;  and  the  punislmient  of  his  crime 
awaits  him.  Let  no  considerations  of  the  past  defer 
that  just  punishment;  it  is  the  duty  of  the  legislator 
to  provide  for  the  future.  Let  the  full  powers  of  the 
law  be  brought  against  him,  aided  by  the  stern  justice 
of  the  public  force.  I^et  him  be  tracked,  like  a  wild 
beast,  to  his  lair,  and  meet  the  fate  of  one.  But  the 
sentence  has,  ere  this,  been  certainly  executed.  The 
brigand,  we  hear,  has  })een  distributing  (without  any 
effect)  pamphlets  among  the  low  ale-houses  and  ])cas- 
antry  of  the  department  of  the  Upper  Uhinc  (in  wliich 


468  THE   HISTORY   OF   THE 

he  lurks)  ;  and  the  Pohce  have  an  easy  means  of  track- 
ing his  footsteps. 

"  Corporal  Crane,  of  the  Gendarmerie,  is  on  the  track 
of  the  unfortunate  young  man.  His  attempt  will  only 
serve  to  show  the  folly  of  the  pretenders,  and  the  love, 
respect,  regard,  fidelity,  admiration,  reverence,  and 
passionate  personal  attachment  in  which  we  hold  our  be- 
loved sovereign." 

"Second  Edition!— Capture  of  the  Prince 

"  A  courier  has  just  arrived  at  the  Tuileries  with  a 
report  that  after  a  scuffle  between  Corporal  Crane  and 
the  '  Imperial  Army,'  in  a  water-barrel,  whither  the 
latter  had  retreated,  victory  has  remained  with  the  for- 
mer. A  desperate  combat  ensued  in  the  first  place,  in  a 
hay-loft,  whence  the  pretender  was  ejected  with  im- 
mense loss.  He  is  now  a  prisoner— and  we  dread  to 
think  what  his  fate  may  be!  It  will  warn  future  aspi- 
rants, and  give  Europe  a  lesson  which  it  is  not  likely 
to  forget.  Above  all,  it  will  set  beyond  a  doubt  the 
regard,  respect,  admiration,  reverence,  and  adoration 
which  we  all  feel  for  our  sovereign." 

"  Third  Edition 

"  A  second  courier  has  arrived.  The  infatuated 
Crane  has  made  common  cause  with  the  Prince,  and 
for  ever  forfeited  the  respect  of  Frenchmen.  A  de- 
tachment of  the  520th  Leger  has  marched  in  pursuit  of 
the  pretender  and  his  dupes.  Go,  Frenchmen,  go  and 
conquer!  Remember  that  it  is  our  rights  you  guard, 
our  homes  which  you  march  to  defend;  our  laws  which 
are  confided  to  the  points  of  your  unsullied  bayonets; 


NEXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTION        469 

— above  all,   our  dear,   dear  sovereign,   around  whose 
throne  you  rally! 

"  Our  feelings  overpower  us.  JNIen  of  the  520th,  re- 
member your  watchword  is  Gemappes, — j^our  counter- 
sign, Valmy." 


"  The  Emperor  of  Russia  and  his  distinguished 
family  quitted  the  Tuileries  this  day.  His  Imperial 
Majesty  embraced  his  Majesty  the  King  of  the  French 
with  tears  in  his  eyes,  and  conferred  upon  their  RR. 
HH.  the  Princes  of  Nemours  and  Joinville,  the  Grand 
Cross  of  the  Order  of  the  Blue  Eagle." 


"  His  Majesty  passed  a  review  of  the  Police  force. 
The  venerable  monarch  was  received  with  deafening 
cheers  by  this  admirable  and  disinterested  body  of  men. 
Those  cheers  were  echoed  in  all  French  hearts.  Long, 
long  may  our  beloved  Prince  be  among  us  to  receive 
them!" 


CHAPTER    II 

HENRY   V.   AND   NAPOLEON    III 

Sunday,  February  30th. 

We  resume  our  quotations  from  the  D chats,  which  thus 
introduces  a  third  pretender  to  the  throne:  — 

"  Is  this  distracted  country  never  to  have  peace? 
While  on  Friday  we  recorded  the  pretensions  of  a  ma- 
niac to  the  great  throne  of  France;  while  on  Saturday 
we  were  compelled  to  register  the  culpable  attempts 
of  one  whom  we  regard  as  a  ruffian,  murderer,  swindler, 
forger,  burglar,  and  common  pickpocket,  to  gain  over 


470  THE  HISTORY  OF  THE 

the  allegiance  of  Frenchmen— it  is  to-day  our  painful 
duty  to  announce  a  third  invasion— yes,  a  third  invasion. 
The  wretched,  superstitious,  fanatic  Duke  of  Bordeaux 
has  landed  at  Nantz,  and  has  summoned  the  Vendeans 
and  the  Bretons  to  mount  the  white  cockade. 

"  Grand  Dieu!  are  we  not  happy  under  the  tricolor? 
Do  we  not  repose  under  the  majestic  shadow  of  the 
best  of  kings?  Is  there  any  name  prouder  than  that 
of  Frenchmen;  any  subject  more  happy  than  that  of 
our  sovereign?  Does  not  the  whole  French  family 
adore  their  father?  Yes.  Our  lives,  our  hearts,  our 
blood,  our  fortune,  are  at  his  disposal:  it  was  not  in 
vain  that  we  raised,  it  is  not  the  first  time  we  have  rallied 
round  the  august  throne  of  July.  The  unhappy  Duke 
is  most  likely  a  prisoner  by  this  time;  and  the  martial 
court  which  shall  be  called  upon  to  judge  one  infamous 
traitor  and  pretender,  may  at  the  same  moment  judge 
another.  Away  with  both!  let  the  ditch  of  Vincennes 
(which  has  been  already  fatal  to  his  race)  receive  his 
body,  too,  and  with  it  the  corpse  of  the  other  pretender. 
Thus  will  a  great  crime  be  wiped  out  of  history,  and 
the  manes  of  a  slaughtered  martyr  avenged! 

"  One  word  more.  We  hear  that  the  Duke  of  Jen- 
kins accompanies  the  descendant  of  Caroline  of  Naples. 
An  English  Duke,  entendez-vous!  An  English  Duke, 
great  heaven!  and  the  Princes  of  England  still  dancing 
in  our  royal  halls!  Where,  where  will  the  perfidy  of 
Albion  end?  " 


"  The  King  reviewed  the  third  and  fourth  battalions 
of  Police.  The  usual  heart-rending  cheers  accompanied 
the  monarch,  who  looked  younger  than  ever  we  saw 


NEXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTION        471 

him — ay,  as  young  as  when  he  faced  the  Austrian 
cannon  at  Valmy  and  scattered  their  squadrons  at 
Gemappes. 

"  Rations  of  Hquor,  and  crosses  of  the  Legion  of 
Honour,  were  distributed  to  all  the  men. 

"  The  English  Princes  quitted  the  Tuileries  in 
twenty-three  coaches-and-four.  They  were  not  re- 
warded with  crosses  of  the  Legion  of  Honour.  This 
is  significant." 


"  The  Dukes  of  Joinville  and  Nemours  left  the  palace 
for  the  departments  of  the  Loire  and  Upper  Rhine, 
where  they  will  take  the  command  of  the  troops.  The 
Joinville  vegiment—Cavalerie  de  la  Marine— is  one  of 
the  finest  in  the  service." 


"  Orders  have  been  given  to  arrest  the  fanatic  who 
calls  himself  Duke  of  Brittany,  and  who  has  been  mak- 
ing some  disturbances  in  the  Pas  de  Calais." 


"  Anecdote  of  His  Majesty.— At  the  review  of 
troops  (Police)  yesterday,  his  Majesty,  going  up  to 
one  old  grognard  and  pulling  him  by  the  ear,  said, 
'Wilt  thou  have  a  cross  or  another  ration  of  wine?' 
The  old  hero,  smiling  archly,  answered,  '  Sire,  a  brave 


472 


THE  HISTORY  OF  THE 


man  can  gain  a  cross  any  day  of  battle,  but  it  is  hard 
for  him  sometimes  to  get  a  drink  of  wine.'  We  need 
not  say  that  he  had  his  drink,  and  the  generous  sov- 
ereign sent  him  the  cross  and  ribbon  too." 


On  the  next  day,  the  Government  journals  begin  to 
write  in  rather  a  despondent  tone  regarding  the  prog- 
ress of  the  pretenders  to  the  throne.  In  spite  of  their 
big  talking,  anxiety  is  clearly  manifested,  as  appears 
from  the  following  remarks  of  the  Dehats: — 


NEXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTION        473 

"  The  courier  from  the  Rhine  department,"  says  the 
Dchats,  "  brings  us  the  following  astounding  Procla- 
mation:— 

"  '  Strasburg,  xxii.  Nivose :  Decadi.  92nd  year  of  the 
Republic,  one  and  indivisible.  We,  John  Thomas  Na- 
poleon, by  the  constitutions  of  the  Empire,  Emperor  of 
the  French  Republic,  to  our  marshals,  generals,  officers, 
and  soldiers,  greeting: 

"'Soldiers! 

"  '  From  the  summit  of  the  Pyramids  forty  centuries 
look  down  upon  you.  The  sun  of  Austerlitz  has  risen 
once  more.  The  Guard  dies,  but  never  surrenders.  My 
eagles,  flying  from  steeple  to  steeple,  never  shall  droop 
till  they  perch  on  the  towers  of  Notre  Dame. 

"  '  Soldiers!  the  child  of  your  Father  has  remained 
long  in  exile.  I  have  seen  the  fields  of  Europe  where 
your  laurels  are  now  withering,  and  I  have  communed 
with  the  dead  who  repose  beneath  them.  They  ask 
where  are  our  children?  Where  is  France?  Europe 
no  longer  glitters  with  the  shine  of  its  triumphant  bay- 
onets—echoes no  more  with  the  shouts  of  its  victorious 
cannon.  Who  could  reply  to  such  a  question  save  with 
a  blush?— And  does  a  blush  become  the  cheeks  of 
Frenchmen? 

"  '  No.  Let  us  wipe  from  our  faces  that  degrading 
mark  of  shame.  Come,  as  of  old,  and  rally  round 
my  eagles!  You  have  been  subject  to  fiddling  pru- 
dence long  enough.  Come,  worship  now  at  the  shrine 
of  Glory!  You  have  been  promised  h})erty,  but  you 
have  had  none.  I  will  endow  you  with  the  true,  the 
real  freedom.  When  your  ancestors  burst  over  tlie 
Alps,  were  they  not  free?  Yes;  h^iin  to  con(|uer.  Let 
us  imitate  the  example  of  those  indomitable  myriads; 


474  THE  HISTORY  OF  THE 

and,  flinging  a  defiance  to  Europe,  once  more  trample 
over  her;  march  in  triumph  into  her  prostrate  capitals, 
and  bring  her  kings  with  her  treasures  at  our  feet. 
This  is  the  liberty  worthy  of  Frenchmen. 

"  '  Frenchmen !  I  promise  you  that  the  Rhine  shall 
be  restored  to  you;  and  that  England  shall  rank  no 
more  among  the  nations.  I  will  have  a  marine  that  shall 
drive  her  ships  from  the  seas;  a  few  of  my  brave  regi- 
ments will  do  the  rest.  Henceforth,  the  traveller  in 
that  desert  island  shall  ask,  "  Was  it  this  wretched  cor- 
ner of  the  world  that  for  a  thousand  years  defied 
Frenchmen?  " 

'"Frenchmen,  up  and  rally! — I  have  flung  my  ban- 
ner to  the  breezes ;  'tis  surrounded  by  the  faithful  and  the 
brave.  Up,  and  let  our  motto  be.  Liberty,  Equality, 
War  all  over  the  World  ! 

"  '  Napoleon  III. 

"  '  The  Marshal  of  the  Empire,  Haricot.' 

"  Such  is  the  Proclamation!  such  the  hopes  that  a  bru- 
tal-minded and  bloody  adventurer  holds  out  to  our  coun- 
try. '  War  all  over  the  world,'  is  the  cry  of  the  savage 
demon;  and  the  fiends  who  have  ralHed  round  him  echo 
it  in  concert.  We  were  not,  it  appears,  correct  in  stating 
that  a  corporal's  guard  had  been  sufficient  to  seize  upon 
the  marauder,  when  the  first  fire  would  have  served  to 
conclude  his  miserable  life.  But,  like  a  hideous  disease, 
the  contagion  has  spread ;  the  remedy  must  be  dreadful. 
Woe  to  those  on  whom  it  will  fall ! 

"  His  Royal  Highness  the  Prince  of  Joinville,  Ad- 
miral of  France,  has  hastened,  as  we  before  stated,  to  the 
disturbed  districts,  and  takes  with  him  his  Cavalerie  de 
la  Marine,    It  is  hard  to  think  that  the  blades  of  those 


NEXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTION        475 

chivalrous  heroes  must  be  buried  in  the  bosoms  of 
Frenchmen:  but  so  be  it:  it  is  those  monsters  who  have 
asked  for  blood,  not  we.  It  is  those  ruffians  who  have 
begun  the  quarrel,  not  we.  We  remain  calm  and  hope- 
ful, reposing  under  the  protection  of  the  dearest  and  best 
of  sovereigns. 

"  The  wretched  pretender,  who  called  himself  Duke 
of  Brittany,  has  been  seized,  according  to  our  prophecy: 
he  was  brought  before  the  Prefect  of  Police  yesterday, 
and  his  insanity  being  proved  beyond  a  doubt,  he  has 
been  consigned  to  a  strait-waistcoat  at  Charenton.  So 
may  all  incendiary  enemies  of  our  Government  be  over- 
come! 

"  His  Royal  Highness  the  Duke  of  Nemours  is  gone 
into  the  department  of  the  Loire,  where  he  will  speedily 
put  an  end  to  the  troubles  in  the  disturbed  districts  of  the 
Bocage  and  La  Vendee.  The  foolish  young  Prince,  who 
has  there  raised  his  standard,  is  followed,  we  hear,  by  a 
small  number  of  wretched  persons,  of  whose  massacre 
we  expect  every  moment  to  receive  the  news.  He  too 
has  issued  his  Proclamation,  and  our  readers  will  smile  at 
its  contents : 

"  '  We,  Henry,  Fifth  of  the  Name,  King  of  France 
and  Navarre,  to  all  whom  it  may  concern,  greeting : 

"  'After  years  of  exile  we  have  once  more  unfurled  in 
France  the  banner  of  the  lilies.  Once  more  the  white 
plume  of  Henri  IV.  floats  in  the  crest  of  his  little  son 
(petit  fils)  !  Gallant  nobles!  worthy  burgesses!  Jioncst 
commons  of  my  realm,  I  call  upon  you  to  rally  round  the 
oriflamme  of  France,  and  summon  the  ha7i  arrierehan  of 
my  kingdoms.  To  my  faithful  Bretons  I  need  not  ap- 
peal.    The  country  of  I3ugueschn   has  loyalty  for  an 


476  THE  HISTORY  OF  THE 

heirloom!  To  the  rest  of  my  subjects,  my  atheist  mis- 
guided subjects,  their  father  makes  one  last  appeal. 
Come  to  me,  my  children !  your  errors  shall  be  forgiven. 
Our  Holy  Father,  the  Pope,  shall  intercede  for  you.  He 
promised  it  when,  before  my  departure  on  this  expedi- 
tion, I  kissed  his  inviolable  toe ! 

"  '  Our  afflicted  country  cries  aloud  for  reforms.  The 
infamous  universities  shall  be  abolished.  Education 
shall  no  longer  be  permitted.  A  sacred  and  wholesome 
inquisition  shall  be  established.  My  faithful  nobles  shall 
pay  no  more  taxes.  All  the  venerable  institutions  of  our 
country  shall  be  restored  as  they  existed  before  1788. 
Convents  and  monasteries  again  shall  ornament  our 
country, — the  calm  nurseries  of  saints  and  holy  women! 
Heresy  shall  be  extirpated  with  paternal  severity,  and 
our  country  shall  be  free  once  more. 

"  '  His  Majesty  the  King  of  Ireland,  my  august  ally, 
has  sent,  under  the  command  of  His  Royal  Highness 
Prince  Daniel,  his  Majesty's  youngest  son,  an  irresistible 
Irish  Brigade,  to  co-operate  in  the  good  work.  His 
Grace  the  Lion  of  Judah,  the  canonized  patriarch  of 
Tuam,  blessed  their  green  banner  before  they  set  forth. 
Henceforth  may  the  lilies  and  the  harp  be  ever  twined 
together.  Together  we  will  make  a  crusade  against  the 
infidels  of  Albion,  and  raze  their  heretic  domes  to  the 
ground.  Let  our  cry  be,  Vive  la  France!  down  with 
England!    Mont joie  St.  Denis! 

"  '  By  the  King. 

"  '  The  Secretary  of  State 

and  Grand  Inquisitor    La  Roue. 
The  Marshal  of  France    Pompadour  de  l'Aile 

DE  Pigeon. 


NEXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTION        477 

The  General  Comman- 
der-in-Chief of  the 
Irish  Brigade  in  the 
service   of   his    INIost 

Christian  Majesty.  .     Daniel,  Prince  of 

Ballybunion. 

'  HENRI.'  " 

"  His  Majesty  reviewed  the  admirable  Police  force, 
and  held  a  council  of  Ministers  in  the  afternoon.  JNIeas- 
ures  were  concerted  for  the  instant  putting  down  of  the 
disturbances  in  the  departments  of  the  Rhine  and  Loire, 
and  it  is  arranged  that  on  the  capture  of  the  pretenders, 
they  shall  be  lodged  in  separate  cells  in  the  prison  of  the 
Luxembourg :  the  apartments  are  already  prepared,  and 
the  officers  at  their  posts. 

"  The  grand  banquet  that  was  to  be  given  at  the  palace 
to-day  to  the  diplomatic  body,  has  been  put  oiF;  all  the 
ambassadors  being  attacked  with  illness,  which  comj^els 
them  to  stay  at  home." 


"  The  ambassadors  despatched  couriers  to  their  vari- 
ous Governments." 


"  His  Majesty  the  King  of  the  Belgians  left  the  pal- 
ace of  the  Tuileries." 


478  THE  HISTORY  OF  THE 


CHAPTER  III 

THE    ADVANCE    OF    THE    PRETENDERS  —  HISTORICAL    REVIEW 

We  will  now  resume  the  narrative,  and  endeavour  to 
compress,  in  a  few  comprehensive  pages,  the  facts  which 
are  more  diffusely  described  in  the  print  from  which  we 
have  quoted. 

It  was  manifest,  then,  that  the  troubles  in  the  depart- 
ments were  of  a  serious  nature,  and  that  the  forces  gath- 
ered round  the  two  pretenders  to  the  crown  were  consid- 
erable. They  had  their  supporters  too  in  Paris,— as  what 
party  indeed  has  not?  and  the  venerable  occupant  of  the 
throne  was  in  a  state  of  considerable  anxiety,  and  found 
his  declining  j^ears  by  no  means  so  comfortable  as  his  vir- 
tues and  great  age  might  have  warranted. 

His  paternal  heart  was  the  more  grieved  when  he 
thought  of  the  fate  reserved  to  his  children,  grandchil- 
dren, and  great-grandchildren,  now  sprung  up  around 
him  in  vast  numbers.  The  King's  grandson,  the  Prince 
Royal,  married  to  a  Princess  of  the  house  of  Schlippen- 
Schloppen,  was  the  father  of  fourteen  children,  all  hand- 
somely endowed  with  pensions  by  the  State.  His 
brother,  the  Count  D'Eu,  was  similarly  blessed  with  a 
multitudinous  offspring.  The  Duke  of  Nemours  had 
no  children;  but  the  Princes  of  Joinville,  Aumale,  and 
Montpensier  (married  to  the  Princesses  Januaria  and 
Februaria,  of  Brazil,  and  the  Princess  of  the  United 
States  of  America,  erected  into  a  monarchy,  4th  July, 
1856,  under  the  Emperor  Duff  Green  I.)  were  the 
happy  fathers  of  immense  families— all  liberally  appor- 


NEXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTION        479 

tioned  by  the  Chambers,  which  had  long  been  entirely 
subservient  to  his  ^lajesty  Louis  Philippe. 

The  Duke  of  Aumale  was  King  of  Algeria,  having 
married  (in  the  first  instance)  the  Princess  Badroulbou- 
dour,  a  daughter  of  his  Highness  Abd-El-Kader.  The 
Prince  of  Joinville  was  adored  by  the  nation,  on  account 
of  his  famous  victory  over  the  English  fleet  under  the 
command  of  Admiral  the  Prince  of  Wales,  whose  ship, 
the  "  Richard  Cobden,"  of  120  guns,  was  taken  by  the 
"  Belle-Poule  "  frigate  of  36:  on  which  occasion  forty- 
five  other  ships  of  war  and  seventy-nine  steam- frigates 
struck  their  colours  to  about  one-fourth  the  number  of 
the  heroic  French  nav3^  The  victory  was  mainly  owing 
to  the  gallantry  of  the  celebrated  French  horse-marines, 
who  executed  several  brilliant  charges  under  the  orders 
of  the  intrepid  Joinville;  and  though  the  Irish  Brigade, 
with  their  ordinary  modesty,  claimed  the  honours  of  the 
day,  yet,  as  only  three  of  that  nation  were  present  in  the 
action,  impartial  history  must  award  the  palm  to  the  in- 
trepid sons  of  Gaul. 

With  so  numerous  a  family  quartered  on  the  nation, 
the  solicitude  of  the  admirable  King  may  be  conceived, 
lest  a  revolution  should  ensue,  and  fling  them  on  the 
world  once  more.  How  could  he  support  so  numerous  a 
family?  Considerable  as  his  wealth  was,  (for  he  was 
known  to  have  amassed  about  a  hundred  and  thirteen 
billions,  which  were  lying  in  the  caves  of  the  Tuileries,) 
yet  such  a  sum  was  quite  insignificant  when  divided 
among  his  progeny;  and,  besides,  he  naturally  preferred 
getting  from  the  nation  as  much  as  his  faitlii'ul  people 
could  possibly  afl'ord. 

Seeing  the  imminency  of  the  danger,  and  tliat  money, 
well  applied,  is  often  more  efficacious  than  the  conquer- 


480 


THE  HISTORY  OF  THE 


or's  sword,  the  King's  Ministers  were  anxious  that  he 
should  devote  a  part  of  his  savings  to  the  carrying  on  of 
the  war.  But,  with  the  cautiousness  of  age,  the  monarch 
declined  this  offer;  he  preferred,  he  said,  throwing  him- 
self upon  his  faithful  people,  who,  he  was  sure,  would 
meet,  as  became  them,  the  coming  exigency.  The  Cham- 
bers met  his  appeal  with  their  usual  devotion.  At  a  sol- 
emn convocation  of  those  legislative  bodies,  the  King, 
surrounded  by  his  family,  explained  the  circumstances 
and  the  danger.    His  Majesty,  his  family,  his  Ministers, 


and  the  two  Chambers,  then  burst  into  tears,  according 
to  immemorial  usage,  and  raising  their  hands  to  the  ceil- 
ing, swore  eternal  fidelity  to  the  dynasty  and  to  France, 
and  embraced  each  other  aff  ectingly  all  round. 

It  need  not  be  said  that  in  the  course  of  that  evening 
two  hundred  Deputies  of  the  Left  left  Paris,  and  joined 
the  Prince  John  Thomas  Napoleon,  who  was  now  ad- 


NEXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTION        481 

vanced  as  far  as  Dijon:  two  hundred  and  fifty-three  (of 
the  Right,  the  Centre,  and  Round  the  Corner,)  similarly 
quitted  the  capital  to  pay  their  homage  to  the  Duke  of 
Bordeaux.  They  were  followed,  according  to  their  sev- 
eral political  predilections,  by  the  various  ^linisters  and 
dignitaries  of  State.  The  only  Minister  who  remained 
in  Paris  was  ^larshal  Thiers,  Prince  of  Waterloo  (he 
had  defeated  the  English  in  the  very  field  where  they  had 
obtained  formerly  a  success,  though  the  victory  was  as 
usual  claimed  by  the  Irish  Brigade)  ;  but  age  had  ruined 
the  health  and  diminished  the  immense  strength  of  that 
gigantic  leader,  and  it  is  said  his  only  reason  for  remain- 
ing in  Paris  was  because  a  fit  of  the  gout  kept  him  in 
bed. 

The  capital  was  entirely  tranquil.  The  theatres  and 
cafes  were  open  as  usual,  and  the  masked  balls  attended 
with  great  enthusiasm:  confiding  in  their  hundred  and 
twenty-four  forts,  the  light-minded  people  had  nothing 
to  fear. 

Except  in  the  way  of  money,  the  King  left  nothing 
undone  to  conciliate  his  people.  He  even  went  among 
them  with  his  umbrella ;  but  they  were  little  touched  with 
that  mark  of  confidence.  He  shook  hands  with  every- 
body; he  distributed  crosses  of  the  Legion  of  Honour  in 
such  multitudes,  that  red  ribbon  rose  two  hundred  \)cv 
cent,  in  the  market  (by  which  his  Majesty,  who  specu- 
lated in  the  article,  cleared  a  tolerable  sum  of  money). 
But  these  blandishments  and  lionours  had  little  effect 
upon  an  apathetic  people;  and  the  enemy  of  the  Orleans 
dynasty,  the  fashiona])le  young  nobles  of  the  Henri(iuin- 
quiste  party,  wore  gloves  perpetually,  for  fear  (they 
said)  that  they  sliould  ])e  obliged  to  sliake  hands  with 
the  best  of  kings;  while  the  Republicans  adopted  coats 


482  THE  HISTORY  OF  THE 

without  button-holes,  lest  they  should  be  forced  to  hang 
red  ribbons  in  them.  The  funds  did  not  fluctuate  in  the 
least. 

The  proclamations  of  the  several  pretenders  had  had 
their  effect.  The  young  men  of  the  schools  and  the  es- 
taminets  (celebrated  places  of  public  education)  allured 
by  the  noble  words  of  Prince  Napoleon,  "  Liberty, 
equality,  war  all  over  the  world!  "  flocked  to  his  standard 
in  considerable  numbers:  while  the  noblesse  naturally 
hastened  to  ofl'er  their  allegiance  to  the  legitimate  de- 
scendant of  Sain  Louis. 

And  truly,  never  was  there  seen  a  more  brilliant  chiv- 
alry than  that  collected  round  the  gallant  Prince  Henry ! 
There  was  not  a  man  in  his  army  but  had  lacquered  boots 
and  fresh  white  kid-gloves  at  morning  and  evening 
parade.  The  fantastic  and  eff*eminate  but  brave  and 
faithful  troops  were  numbered  ofl"  into  diiFerent  legions ; 
there  was  the  Fleur-d'Orange  regiment;  the  Eau-de- 
Rose  battalion;  the  Violet-Pomatum  volunteers;  the 
Eau-de-Cologne  cavalry— according  to  the  difl'erent 
scents  which  they  affected.  Most  of  the  warriors  wore 
lace  ruffles;  all  powder  and  pigtails,  as  in  the  real  days 
of  chivalry.  A  band  of  heavy  dragoons  under  the  com- 
mand of  Count  Alfred  de  Horsay  made  themselves  con- 
spicuous for  their  discipline,  cruelty,  and  the  admirable 
cut  of  their  coats;  and  with  these  celebrated  horsemen 
came  from  England  the  illustrious  Duke  of  Jenkins 
with  his  superb  footmen.  They  were  all  six  feet  high. 
They  all  wore  bouquets  of  the  richest  flowers :  they  wore 
bags,  their  hair  slightly  powdered,  brilliant  shoulder- 
knots,  and  cocked-hats  laced  with  gold.  They  wore  the 
tight  knee-pantaloon  of  velveteen  peculiar  to  this  por- 
tion of  the  British  infantry;  and  their  legs  were  so  su- 


NEXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTION        483 

perb,  that  the  Duke  of  Bordeaux,  embracing  with  tears 
their  admirable  leader  on  parade,  said,  "  Jenkins,  France 
never  saw  such  calves  until  now."  The  weapon  of  this 
tremendous  militia  was  an  immense  club  or  cane,  reach- 


ing from  the  sole  of  the  foot  to  the  nose,  and  heavily 
mounted  with  gold.  Nothing  could  stand  before  this 
terrific  weapon,  and  the  breastplates  and  plumed  mori- 
ons of  the  French  cuirassiers  would  have  been  undoubt- 
edly crushed  beneath  them,  had  they  ever  met  in  mortal 
combat.  Between  this  part  of  the  Prince's  forces  and 
the  Irish  auxiliaries  there  was  a  deadly  animosity.  Alas, 
there  always  is  such  in  camps!  The  sons  of  Albion  had 
not  forgotten  the  day  when  the  children  of  Erin  had 
been  subject  to  their  devastating  sway. 

The  uniform  of  the  latter  was  various — the  rich  stuff 
called  corps-du-roy  (worn  by  Coeur  de  Lion  at  Agin- 
court)  formed  their  lower  habiliments  for  the  most  part: 
the  national  frieze^  yielded  them  tail-coats.  The  latter 
were  generally  torn  in  a  fantastic  manner  at  the  elbows, 
skirts,  and  collars,  and  fastened  A\ith  ever}^  variety  of 
button,  tape,  and  string.  Their  weapons  were  the  cau- 
been,  the  alpeen,  and  the  doodeen  of  the  country— the 

1  Were  these  in  any  way  related  tf)  the  rhcrav.r-df.-frisc  on  which  tli(^ 
French  cavalry  were  mounted  ? 


484  THE  HISTORY  OF  THE 

latter  a  short  but  dreadful  weapon  of  offence.  At  the 
demise  of  the  venerable  Theobald  Mathew,  the  nation 
had  laid  aside  its  habit  of  temperance,  and  universal  in- 
toxication betokened  their  grief;  it  became  afterwards 
their  constant  habit.  Thus  do  men  ever  return  to  the 
haunts  of  their  childhood:  such  a  power  has  fond  mem- 
ory over  us !  The  leaders  of  this  host  seem  to  have  been, 
however,  an  effeminate  race;  they  are  represented  by 
contemporary  historians  as  being  passionately  fond  of 
flying  kites.  Others  say  they  went  into  battle  armed 
Avith  "  bills,"  no  doubt  rude  weapons;  for  it  is  stated  that 
foreigners  could  never  be  got  to  accept  them  in  lieu  of 
their  own  arms.  The  Princes  of  Mayo,  Donegal,  and 
Connemara,  marched  by  the  side  of  their  young  and 
ro5^al  chieftain,  the  Prince  of  Ballybunion,  fourth  son 
of  Daniel  the  First,  King  of  the  Emerald  Isle. 

Two  hosts  then,  one  under  the  Eagles,  and  surrounded 
by  the  republican  imperialists,  the  other  under  the  an- 
tique French  Lilies,  w^re  marching  on  the  French  cap- 
ital. The  Duke  of  Brittany,  too,  confined  in  the  lunatic 
asylum  of  Charenton,  found  means  to  issue  a  protest 
against  his  captivity,  which  caused  only  derision  in  the 
capital.  Such  was  the  state  of  the  empire,  and  such  the 
clouds  that  were  gathering  round  the  Sun  of  Orleans ! 


CHAPTER   IV 

THE    BATTLE    OF    RHEIMS 


It  was  not  the  first  time  that  the  King  had  had  to  un- 
dergo misfortunes;  and  now,  as  then,  he  met  them  like  a 
man.    The  Prince  of  Joinville  was  not  successful  in  his 


NEXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTION        485 

campaign  against  the  Imperial  Pretender:  and  that 
bravery  which  had  put  the  British  fleet  to  flight,  was 
found,  as  might  be  expected,  insufficient  against  the  ir- 
resistible courage  of  native  Frenchmen.  The  Horse 
Marines,  not  being  on  their  own  element,  could  not  act 
with  their  usual  effect.  Accustomed  to  the  tumult  of 
the  swelling  seas,  they  were  easily  unsaddled  on  tejra 
firma  and  in  the  champagne  country. 

It  was  literally  in  the  Champagne  country  that  the 
meeting  between  the  troops  under  Joinville  and  Prince 


Napoleon  took  place!  for  both  armies  had  reached 
Rheims,  and  a  terrific  battle  was  fought  underneath  the 
walls.  For  some  time  nothing  could  dislodge  the  army 
of  Joinville,  entrenched  in  the  champagne  cellars  of 
Messrs.  Ruinart,  Moet,  and  others;  but  making  too  free 
with  the  fascinating  liquor,  the  army  at  length  became 


486  THE  HISTORY  OF  THE 

entirely  drunk:  on  which  the  ImperiaHsts,  rushing  into 
the  cellars,  had  an  easy  victory  over  them ;  and,  this  done, 
proceeded  to  intoxicate  themselves  likewise. 

The  Prince  of  Joinville,  seeing  the  deroute  of  his 
troops,  was  compelled  with  a  few  faithful  followers  to 
fly  towards  Paris,  and  Prince  Napoleon  remained  master 
of  the  field  of  battle.  It  is  needless  to  recapitulate  the 
bulletin  which  he  published  the  day  after  the  occasion, 
so  soon  as  he  and  his  secretaries  were  in  a  condition  to 
write :  eagles,  pyramids,  rainbows,  the  sun  of  AusterlitZv, 
&c.  figured  in  the  proclamation,  in  close  imitation  of  his 
illustrious  uncle.  But  the  great  benefit  of  the  action 
was  this:  on  arousing  from  their  intoxication,  the  late 
soldiers  of  Joinville  kissed  and  embraced  their  comrades 
of  the  Imperial  army,  and  made  common  cause  with 
them. 

"  Soldiers!"  said  the  Prince,  on  reviewing  them  the 
second  day  after  the  action,  "  the  Cock  is  a  gallant  bird; 
but  he  makes  way  for  the  Eagle!  Your  colours  are  not 
changed.  Ours  floated  on  the  walls  of  IMoscow — yours 
on  the  ramparts  of  Constantine ;  both  are  glorious.  Sol- 
diers of  Joinville!  we  give  you  welcome,  as  we  would 
welcome  your  illustrious  leader,  who  destroj^ed  the  fleets 
of  Albion.  Let  him  join  us!  We  will  march  together 
against  that  perfidious  enemy. 

"But,  Soldiers!  intoxication  dimmed  the  laurels  of 
yesterday's  glorious  day!  Let  us  drink  no  more  of  the 
fascinating  liquors  of  our  native  Champagne.  Let  us 
remember  Hannibal  and  Capua;  and,  before  we  plunge 
into  dissipation,  that  we  have  Rome  still  to  conquer ! 

"  Soldiers!  Seltzer-water  is  good  after  too  much 
drink.  Wait  awhile,  and  your  Emperor  will  lead  you 
into  a  Seltzer-water  country.  Frenchmen !  it  lies  beyond 
THE  Rhine!  " 


NEXT  FREXCH  REVOLUTION        487 

Deafening  shouts  of  "  Vive  VEmpereurl "  saluted 
this  allusion  of  the  Prince,  and  the  army  knew  that  their 
natural  boundary  should  be  restored  to  them.  The  com- 
pliments to  the  gallantry  of  the  Prince  of  Joinville  like- 
wise won  all  hearts,  and  immensely  advanced  the  Prince's 
cause.  The  Journal  des  Dcbats  did  not  know  which  way 
to  turn.  In  one  paragraph  it  called  the  Emperor  "  a 
sanguinary  tyrant,  murderer,  and  pickpocket;"  in  a 
second  it  owned  he  was  "  a  magnanimous  rebel,  and  wor- 
thy of  forgiveness ;  "  and,  after  proclaiming  "the  bril- 
liant victory  of  the  Prince  of  Joinville,"  presently  de- 
nominated it  a  "  funeste  journee" 

The  next  day  the  Emperor,  as  we  may  now  call  him, 
was  about  to  march  on  Paris,  when  INIessrs.  Ruinart  and 
Moet  were  presented,  and  requested  to  be  paid  for  300,- 
000  bottles  of  wine.  "  Send  three  hundred  thousand 
more  to  the  Tuileries,"  said  the  Prince,  sternly:  "our 
soldiers  will  be  thirsty  when  they  reach  Paris."  And 
taking  Moet  with  him  as  a  hostage,  and  promising 
Ruinart  that  he  would  have  him  shot  unless  he  obeyed, 
with  trumpets  playing  and  eagles  glancing  in  the  sun, 
the  gallant  Imperial  army  marched  on  their  trium])hant 
way. 


CHAPTER   V 

THE    BATTLE    OK    TOURS 


We  have  now  to  record  the  ex])edition  of  the  Prince  of 
Nemours  against  liis  advancing  cousin,  ITciuy  V.  II  is 
Royal  Highness  could  not  marcli  against  the  enemy  willi 
such  a  force  as  he  would  have  desired  to  l)riTig  against 
them;  for  his  royal  father,  wisely  remembei-ing  the  vast 


488  THE  HISTORY  OF  THE 

amount  of  property  he  had  stowed  away  under  the 
Tuileries,  refused  to  allow  a  single  soldier  to  quit  the 
forts  round  the  capital,  which  thus  was  defended  by  one 
hundred  and  forty-four  thousand  guns  (eighty-four- 
pounders),  and  four  hundred  and  thirty-two  thousand 
men:— little  enough,  when  one  considers  that  there  were 
but  three  men  to  a  gun.  To  j)rovision  this  immense 
army,  and  a  population  of  double  the  amount  within  the 
walls,  his  Majesty  caused  the  country  to  be  scoured  for 
fifty  miles  round,  and  left  neither  ox,  nor  ass,  nor  blade 
of  grass.  When  appealed  to  by  the  inhabitants  of  the 
plundered  district,  the  royal  Philip  replied,  with  tears 
in  his  eyes,  that  his  heart  bled  for  them — that  they  were 
his  children— that  every  cow  taken  from  the  meanest 
peasant  was  like  a  limb  torn  from  his  own  body ;  but  that 
duty  must  be  done,  that  the  interests  of  the  country  de- 
manded the  sacrifice,  and  that  in  fact  they  might  go  to 
the  deuce.    This  the  unfortunate  creatures  certainly  did. 

The  theatres  went  on  as  usual  within  the  walls.  The 
Journal  des  Debats  stated  every  day  that  the  pretenders 
were  taken;  the  Chambers  sat — such  as  remained — and 
talked  immensely  about  honour,  dignity,  and  the  glorious 
revolution  of  July ;  and  the  King,  as  his  power  was  now 
pretty  nigh  absolute  over  them,  thought  this  a  good  op- 
portunity to  bring  in  a  bill  for  doubling  his  children's 
allowances  all  round. 

Meanwhile  the  Duke  of  Nemours  proceeded  on  his 
march;  and  as  there  was  nothing  left  within  fifty  miles 
of  Paris  wherewith  to  support  his  famished  troops,  it 
may  be  imagined  that  he  was  forced  to  ransack  the  next 
fifty  miles  in  order  to  maintain  them.  He  did  so.  But 
the  troops  were  not  such  as  they  should  have  been,  con- 
sidering the  enemy  with  whom  they  had  to  engage. 


NEXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTION        489 

The  fact  is,  that  most  of  the  Duke's  army  consisted  of 
the  National  Guard ;  who,  in  a  fit  of  enthusiasm,  and  at 
the  ciy  of  "  LA  patrie  en  danger  "  having  been  induced 
to  volunteer,  had  been  eagerly  accepted  by  his  Majesty, 
anxious  to  lessen  as  much  as  possible  the  number  of  food- 
consumers  in  his  beleaguered  capital.  It  is  said  even 
that  he  selected  the  most  gormandizing  battalions  of  the 
civic  force  to  send  forth  against  the  enemy :  viz.  the  gro- 
cers, the  rich  bankers,  the  la^vyers,  &c.  Their  parting 
with  their  families  was  very  affecting.  They  would  have 
been  very  willing  to  recall  their  offer  of  marching,  but 
companies  of  stern  veterans  closing  round  them,  marched 
them  to  the  city  gates,  which  were  closed  upon  them; 
and  thus  perforce  they  were  compelled  to  move  on.  As 
long  as  he  had  a  bottle  of  brandy  and  a  couple  of  sau- 
sages in  his  holsters,  the  General  of  the  National  Guard, 
Odillon  Barrot,  talked  with  tremendous  courage.  Such 
was  the  power  of  his  eloquence  over  the  troops,  that, 
could  he  have  come  up  with  the  enemy  while  his  victuals 
lasted,  the  issue  of  the  combat  might  have  been  very  dif- 
ferent. But  in  the  course  of  the  first  day's  march  he 
finished  both  the  sausages  and  the  brandy,  and  became 
quite  uneasy,  silent,  and  crest-fallen. 

It  was  on  the  fair  plains  of  Touraine,  by  the  banks  of 
silver  I^oire,  that  the  armies  sat  down  before  each  other, 
and  the  battle  was  to  take  place  wliich  liad  such  an  effect 
upon  the  fortunes  of  France.  'Twas  a  brisk  day  of 
March:  the  practised  valour  of  Nemours  showed  him  at 
once  what  use  to  make  of  the  army  under  his  orders,  and 
having  enfiladed  his  National  Guard  battalions,  and 
placed  his  artillery  in  echelons,  lie  formed  his  cavalry 
into  hollow  squares  on  the  right  and  left  of  his  line,  fling- 
ing out  a  cloud  of  howitzers  to  fall  back  upon  the  main 


490  THE  HISTORY  OF  THE 

column.  His  veteran  infantry  he  formed  behind  his  Na- 
tional Guard — politely  hinting  to  Odillon  Barrot,  who 
wished  to  retire  under  pretence  of  being  exceedingly 
unwell,  that  the  regular  troops  would  bayonet  the  Na- 
tional Guard  if  they  gave  way  an  inch:  on  which  their 
General,  turning  very  pale,  demurely  went  back  to  his 
post.  His  men  were  dreadfully  discouraged;  they  had 
slept  on  the  ground  all  night ;  they  regretted  their  homes 
and  their  comfortable  nightcaps  in  the  Rue  St.  Honore: 
they  had  luckily  fallen  in  with  a  flock  of  sheep  and  a 
drove  of  oxen  at  Tours  the  day  before;  but  what  were 
these,  compared  to  the  delicacies  of  Chevet's  or  three 
courses  at  Vefour's?  They  mournfully  cooked  their 
steaks  and  cutlets  on  their  ramrods,  and  passed  a  most 
wretched  night. 

The  army  of  Henry  was  encamped  opposite  to  them, 
for  the  most  part  in  better  order.  The  noble  cavalry 
regiments  found  a  village  in  which  they  made  themselves 
pretty  comfortable,  Jenkins's  Foot  taking  possession  of 
the  kitchens  and  garrets  of  the  buildings.  The  Irish 
Brigade,  accustomed  to  lie  abroad,  were  quartered  in 
some  potato-fields,  where  they  sang  Moore's  melodies  all 
night.  There  were,  besides  the  troops  regular  and  ir- 
regular, about  three  thousand  priests  and  abbes  with 
the  army,  armed  with  scourging- whips,  and  chanting  the 
most  lugubrious  canticles:  these  reverend  men  were 
found  to  be  a  hindrance  rather  than  otherwise  to  the 
operations  of  the  regular  forces. 

It  was  a  touching  sight,  on  the  morning  before  the 
battle,  to  see  the  alacrity  with  which  Jenkins's  regiment 
sprung  up  at  the  first  reveille  of  the  bell,  and  engaged 
(the  honest  fellows!)  in  offices  almost  menial  for  the 
benefit  of  their  French  allies.    The  Duke  himself  set  the 


NEXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTION        491 

example,  and  blacked  to  a  nicety  the  boots  of  Henri.  At 
half -past  ten,  after  coffee,  the  brilliant  warriors  of  the 
cavalry  were  ready;  their  clarions  rung  to  horse,  their 


banners  w^ere  given  to  the  wind,  their  shirt-collars  were 
exquisitely  starched,  and  the  whole  air  was  scented  with 
the  odours  of  their  pomatums  and  pocket-handkerchiefs. 

Jenkins  had  the  honour  of  holding  the  stirrup  for 
Henri.  "  My  faithful  Duke!  "  said  the  Prince,  pulling 
him  by  the  shoulder-knot,  "  thou  art  always  at  ///// 
Post."  "  Here,  as  in  Wellington  Street,  sire,"  said  the 
hero,  blushing.  And  the  Prince  made  an  appropriate 
speech  to  his  chivalry,  in  which  allusions  to  the  lilies, 
Saint  Louis,  Bayard  and  Henri  Quati-e,  were,  as  may 
be  imagined,  not  spared.  "  Ho!  standard-bearer!"  the 
Prince  concluded,  "  fling  out  my  oriflamme.  Noble 
gents  of  France,  your  King  is  among  you  to-day!  " 

Then  turning  to  the  Prince  of  Rally])uiii()n,  wlio  had 
been  drinking  whisky-punch  all  night  with  the  Princes 


492  THE  HISTORY  OF  THE 

of  Donegal  and  Connemara,  "  Prince,"  he  said,  "  the 
Irish  Brigade  has  won  every  battle  in  the  French  his- 
tory—we will  not  deprive  you  of  the  honour  of  win- 
ning this.  You  will  please  to  commence  the  attack  with 
your  brigade."  Bending  his  head  until  the  green 
plumes  of  his  beaver  mingled  with  the  mane  of  the 
Shetland  pony  which  he  rode,  the  Prince  of  Ireland 
trotted  off  with  his  aides-de-camp;  who  rode  the  same 
horses,  powerful  greys,  with  which  a  dealer  at  Nantz 
had  supplied  them  on  their  and  the  Prince's  joint  bill 
at  three  months. 

The  gallant  sons  of  Erin  had  wisely  slept  until  the 
last  minute  in  their  potato-trenches,  but  rose  at  once 
at  the  summons  of  their  beloved  Prince.  Their  toilet 
was  the  work  of  a  moment— a  single  shake  and  it  was 
done.  Rapidly  forming  into  a  line,  they  advanced 
headed  by  their  Generals,— who,  turning  their  steeds 
into  a  grass-field,  wisely  determined  to  fight  on  foot. 
Behind  them  came  the  line  of  British  foot  under  the 
illustrious  Jenkins,  who  marched  in  advance  perfectly 
collected,  and  smoking  a  Manilla  cigar.  The  cavalry 
were  on  the  right  and  left  of  the  infantry,  prepared 
to  act  in  pontoon,  in  echelon,  or  in  ricochet,  as  occasion 
might  demand.  The  Prince  rode  behind,  supported  by 
his  Staff,  who  were  almost  all  of  them  bishops,  arch- 
deacons, or  abbes ;  and  the  body  of  ecclesiastics  followed, 
singing  to  the  sound,  or  rather  howl,  of  serpents  and 
trombones,  the  Latin  canticles  of  the  Reverend  Fran- 
ciscus  O'Mahony,  lately  canonized  under  the  name  of 
Saint  Francis  of  Cork. 

The  advanced  lines  of  the  two  contending  armies 
were  now  in  presence — the  National  Guard  of  Orleans 
and    the    Irish    Brigade.      The    white    belts    and    fat 


NEXT  FREXCH  REVOLUTION        493 

paunches  of  the  Guard  presented  a  terrific  appearance; 
but  it  might  have  been  remarked  by  the  close  observer, 
that  their  faces  were  as  white  as  their  belts,  and  the  long 
line  of  their  bayonets  might  be  seen  to  quiver.  General 
Odillon  Barrot,  with  a  cockade  as  large  as  a  pancake, 
endeavoured  to  make  a  speech:  the  words  honneiir, 
patrie,  Fraufais,  champ  de  hataille  might  be  distin- 
guished; but  the  General  was  dreadfully  flustered,  and 
was  evidently  more  at  home  in  the  Chamber  of  Depu- 
ties than  in  the  field  of  war. 

The  Prince  of  Ballybunion,  for  a  wonder,  did  not 
make  a  speech.  "  Boys,"  said  he,  "  we've  enough  talk- 
ing at  the  Corn  Exchange;  bating's  the  word  now." 
The  Green-Islanders  replied  with  a  tremendous  hurroo, 
which  sent  terror  into  the  fat  bosoms  of  the  French. 

"  Gentlemen  of  the  National  Guard,"  said  the  Prince, 
taking  oiF  his  hat  and  bowing  to  Odillon  Barrot,  "  will 
ye  be  so  igsthramely  obleeging  as  to  fire  first."  This 
he  said  because  it  had  been  said  at  Fontenoy,  but  chiefly 
because  his  own  men  were  only  armed  with  shillelaghs, 
and  therefore  could  not  fire. 

But  this  proposal  was  very  unpalatable  to  the  Na- 
tional Guardsmen :  for  though  they  understood  the  mus- 
ket-exercise pretty  well,  firing  was  the  thing  of  all 
others  they  detested— the  noise,  and  the  kick  of  the  gun, 
and  the  smell  of  the  powder  being  very  unpleasant  to 
them.  "We  won't  fire,"  said  Odillon  Barrot,  turning 
round  to  Colonel  Saugrenue  and  his  regiment  of  the 
line— which,  it  may  be  remembered,  was  formed  behind 
the  National  Guard. 

"  Then  give  them  the  bayonet,"  said  the  Colonel,  witli 
a  terrific  oath.     "  Charge,  corbleu !  " 

At  this  moment,  and  with  the  most  dreadful  liow] 


494 


THE  HISTORY  OF  THE 


tlicat  ever  was  heard,  the  National  Guard  was  seen  to 
rush  forwards  wildly,  and  with  immense  velocity,  to- 
wards the  foe.  The  fact  is,  that  the  line  regiment  be- 
hind them,  each  selecting  his  man,  gave  a  poke  with 
his  bayonet  between  the  coat-tails  of  the  Nationals,  and 
those  troops  bounded  forwards  with  an  irresistible  swift- 
ness. 


Nothing  could  withstand  the  tremendous  impetus  of 
that  manoeuvre.  The  Irish  Brigade  was  scattered  before 
it,  as  chaff  before  the  wind.  The  Prince  of  Ballybunion 
had  barely  time  to  run  Odillon  Barrot  through  the  body, 
when  he  too  was  borne  away  in  the  swift  route.  They 
scattered  tumultuously,  and  fled  for  twenty  miles  with- 
out stopping.  The  Princes  of  Donegal  and  Connemara 
were  taken  prisoners;  but  though  they  offered  to  give 
bills   at   three   months,    and   for   a   hundred   thousand 


XEXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTIOX        495 

pounds,  for  their  ransom,  the  oifer  was  refused,  and 
they  were  sent  to  the  rear;  when  the  Duke  of  Nemours, 
hearing  they  were  Irish  Generals,  and  that  they  had 
been  robbed  of  their  ready  money  by  his  troops,  who  had 
taken  them  prisoners,  caused  a  comfortable  breakfast 
to  be  supplied  to  them,  and  lent  them  each  a  sum  of 
money.  How  generous  are  men  in  success! — the  Prince 
of  Orleans  was  charmed  with  the  conduct  of  his  Na- 
tional Guards,  and  thought  his  victory  secure.  He  des- 
patched a  courier  to  Paris  with  the  brief  words,  "  We 
met  the  enemy  before  Tours.  The  National  Guard  has 
done  its  duty.  The  troops  of  the  pretender  are  routed. 
Vive  le  Roi! "  The  note,  you  may  be  sure,  appeared 
in  the  Journal  des  Dehats,  and  the  editor,  who  only  that 
morning  had  called  Henri  V.  "a  great  prince,  an  au- 
gust exile,"  denominated  him  instantly  a  murderer, 
slave,  thief,  cut-throat,  pickpocket,  and  burglar. 


CHAPTER    VI 


THE    ENGLISH    UNDEH    JENKINS 


But  the  Prince  had  not  calculated  tliat  tlierc  was  a  line 
of  British  infantry  behind  the  routed  Irish  Brigade. 
Borne  on  with  the  hurry  of  the  incicc,  flushed  with 
triumph,  puffing  and  blowing  with  running,  and  forget- 
ting, in  the  intoxication  of  victory,  the  trifling  bayonet- 
pricks  which  had  impelled  them  to  the  charge,  tlie 
conquering  National  (iuardsmcii  f(mnd  themselves  sud- 
denly in  presence  of  Jenkins's  Foot. 


496  THE  HISTORY  OF  THE 

They  halted  all  in  a  huddle,  like  a  flock  of  sheep. 

"  Up,  Foot,  and  at  them! "  were  the  memorable 
words  of  the  Duke  Jenkins,  as,  waving  his  baton,  he 
pointed  towards  the  enemy,  and  with  a  tremendous 
shout  the  stalwart  sons  of  England  rushed  on! — Down 
went  plume  and  cocked-hat,  down  went  corporal  and 
captain,  down  went  grocer  and  tailor,  under  the  long 
staves  of  the  indomitable  English  Footmen.  "  A  Jen- 
kins! a  Jenkins!"  roared  the  Duke,  planting  a  blow 
which  broke  the  aquiline  nose  of  Major  Arago,  the 
celebrated  astronomer.  "St.  George  for  Mayfair!" 
shouted  his  followers,  strewing  the  plain  with  carcases. 
Not  a  man  of  the  Guard  escaped;  they  fell  like  grass 
before  the  mower. 

"  They  are  gallant  troops,  those  yellow-plushed  An- 
glais," said  the  Duke  of  Nemours,  surveying  them  with 
his  opera-glass.  "  'Tis  a  pity  they  will  all  be  cut  up  in 
half  an  hour.  Concombre!  take  your  dragoons,  and  do 
it!  "  "  Remember  Waterloo,  boys!  "  said  Colonel  Con- 
combre, twirling  his  moustache,  and  a  thousand  sabres 
flashed  in  the  sun,  and  the  gallant  hussars  prepared  to 
attack  the  Englishmen. 

Jenkins,  his  gigantic  form  leaning  on  his  staff,  and 
surveying  the  havoc  of  the  field,  was  instantly  aware  of 
the  enemy's  manoeuvre.  His  people  were  employed 
rifling  the  pockets  of  the  National  Guard,  and  had  made 
a  tolerable  booty,  when  the  great  Duke,  taking  a  bell  out 
of  his  pocket,  (it  was  used  for  signals  in  his  battalion  in 
place  of  fife  or  bugle) ,  speedily  called  his  scattered  war- 
riors together.  "  Take  the  muskets  of  the  Nationals," 
said  he.  They  did  so.  "  Form  in  square,  and  prepare  to 
receive  cavalry!"     By  the  time  Concombre's  regiment 


NEXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTION        497 

arrived,  he  found  a  square  of  bristling  bayonets  with 
Britons  behind  them! 


The  Colonel  did  not  care  to  attempt  to  break  that  tre- 
mendous body.    "  Halt!  "  said  he  to  his  men. 

"  Fire!  "  screamed  Jenkins,  with  eagle  swiftness;  but 
the  guns  of  the  National  Guard  not  being  loaded,  did 
not  in  consequence  go  off.  The  hussars  gave  a  jeer  of 
derision,  but  nevertheless  did  not  return  to  the  attack, 
and  seeing  some  of  the  Legitimist  cavalry  at  hand,  pre- 
pared to  charge  upon  them. 

The  fate  of  those  carpet  warriors  was  soon  decided. 
The  Millefleur  regiment  broke  before  Concombre's  hus- 
sars instantaneously;  the  Eau-de-Rose  dragoons  stuck 
spurs  into  their  blood  horses,  and  galloped  far  out  of 
reach  of  the  opposing  cavalry ;  the  Eau-de-Cologne  Ian- 


498  THE  HISTORY  OF  THE 

cers  fainted  to  a  man,  and  the  regiment  of  Concombre, 
pursuing  its  course,  had  actually  reached  the  Prince  and 
his  aides-de-camp,  when  the  clergymen  coming  up 
formed  gallantly  round  the  oriflamme,  and  the  bassoons 
and  serpents  braying  again,  set  up  such  a  shout  of  canti- 
cles, and  anathemas,  and  excommunications,  that  the 
horses  of  Concombre's  dragoons  in  turn  took  fright,  and 
those  warriors  in  their  turn  broke  and  fled.  As  soon  as 
they  turned,  the  Vendean  riflemen  fired  amongst  them 
and  finished  them:  the  gallant  Concombre  fell;  the  in- 
trepid though  diminutive  Cornichon,  his  major,  was  cut 
down ;  Cardon  was  wounded  a  la  moelle,  and  the  wife  of 
the  fiery  Navet  was  that  day  a  widow.  Peace  to  the 
souls  of  the  brave!  In  defeat  or  in  victory,  where  can 
the  soldier  find  a  more  fitting  resting-place  than  the  glo- 
rious field  of  carnage?  Only  a  few  disorderly  and  dis- 
spirited  riders  of  Concombre's  regiment  reached  Tours 
at  night.  They  had  left  it  but  the  day  before,  a  thousand 
disciplined  and  high-spirited  men! 

Knowing  how  irresistible  a  weapon  is  the  bayonet  in 
British  hands,  the  intrepid  Jenkins  determined  to  carry 
on  his  advantage,  and  charged  the  Saugrenue  light  in- 
fantry (now  before  him)  with  cold  steel.  The  French- 
men delivered  a  volley,  of  which  a  shot  took  effect  in 
Jenkins's  cockade,  but  did  not  abide  the  crossing  of  the 
weapons.  "A  Frenchman  dies  but  never  surrenders," 
said  Saugrenue,  yielding  up  his  sword,  and  his  whole 
regiment  were  stabbed,  trampled  down,  or  made  pris- 
oners. The  blood  of  the  Englishmen  rose  in  the  hot  en- 
counter. Their  curses  were  horrible;  their  courage  tre- 
mendous. "On!  on!"  hoarsely  screamed  they;  and  a 
second  regiment  met  them  and  was  crushed,  pounded  in 
the  hurtling,  grinding  encounter.     "A  Jenkins,  a  Jen- 


NEXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTION 


499 


kins!"  still  roared  the  heroic  Duke;  "  St.  George  for 
Mayfair!  "  The  Footmen  of  England  still  yelled  their 
terrific  battle-cry,  "Hurra,  hurra!"  On  they  went; 
regiment  after  regiment  was  annihilated,  until,  scared  at 
the  very  trample  of  the  advancing  warriors,  the  dis- 
mayed troops  of  France  screaming  fled.  Gathering  his 
last  warriors  round  about  him,  Nemours  determined  to 
make  a  last  desperate  effort.  'Twas  vain :  the  ranks  met ; 
the  next  moment  the  truncheon  of  the  Prince  of  Orleans 
was  dashed  from  his  hand  by  the  irresistible  mace  of  the 
Duke  Jenkins ;  his  horse's  shins  were  broken  by  the  same 
weapon.  Screaming  with  agony  the  animal  fell.  Jen- 
kins's hand  was  at  the  Duke's  collar  in  a  moment,  and 
had  he  not  gasped  out,  "  Je  me  rends! "  he  would  have 
been  throttled  in  that  dreadful  grasp ! 


Three  hundred  and  forty-two  standards,  seventy-nine 
regiments,  their  baggage,  ammunition,  and  treasure- 
chests,  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  victorious  Duke.  He 
had  avenged  the  honour  of  Old  England;  and  himself 
presenting  the  sword  of  the  conquered  Nemours  to 
Prince  Henri,  who  now  came  up,  the  Prince,  bursting 
into  tears,  fell  on  his  neck  and  said,  "  Duke,  I  owe  my 
crown  to  my  patron  saint  and  you."  It  was  indeed  a 
glorious  victory:  but  what  will  not  l^ritish  valour  attain? 


500  THE  HISTORY  OF  THE 

The  Duke  of  Nemours,  having  despatched  a  brief 
note  to  Paris,  saying,  "  Sire,  all  is  lost  except  honour!  " 
was  sent  off  in  confinement ;  and  in  spite  of  the  entreaties 
of  his  captor,  was  hardly  treated  with  decent  politeness. 
The  priests  and  the  noble  regiments  who  rode  back  when 
the  affair  was  over,  were  for  having  the  Prince  shot  at 
once,  and  murmured  loudly  against  "  cet  Anglais  bru- 
tal "  who  interposed  in  behalf  of  his  prisoner.  Henri  V. 
granted  the  Prince  his  life;  but,  no  doubt  misguided  by 
the  advice  of  his  noble  and  ecclesiastical  counsellors, 
treated  the  illustrious  English  Duke  with  marked  cold- 
ness, and  did  not  even  ask  him  to  supper  that  night. 

"  Well!  "  said  Jenkins,  "  I  and  my  merry  men  can 
sup  alone."  And,  indeed,  having  had  the  pick  of  the 
plunder  of  about  28,000  men,  they  had  wherewithal  to 
make  themselves  pretty  comfortable.  The  prisoners 
(25,403)  were  all  without  difficulty  induced  to  assume 
the  white  cockade.  Most  of  them  had  those  marks  of 
loyalty  ready  sewn  in  their  flannel- waistcoats,  where  they 
swore  they  had  worn  them  ever  since  1830.  This  we  may 
believe,  and  we  will;  but  the  Prince  Henri  was  too  po- 
litic or  too  good-humoured  in  the  moment  of  victory,  to 
doubt  the  sincerity  of  his  new  subjects'  protestations, 
and  received  the  Colonels  and  Generals  affably  at  his 
table. 

The  next  morning  a  proclamation  was  issued  to  the 
united  armies.  "  Faithful  soldiers  of  France  and  Na- 
varre," said  the  Prince,  "  the  saints  have  won  for  us  a 
great  victory — the  enemies  of  our  religion  have  been 
overcome — the  lilies  are  restored  to  their  native  soil. 
Yesterday  morning  at  eleven  o'clock  the  army  under  my 
command  engaged  that  which  was  led  by  his  Serene 
Highness  the  Duke  de  Nemours.    Our  forces  were  but 


NEXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTION        501 

a  third  in  number  when  compared  with  those  of  the 
enemy.  ]My  faithful  chivah-y  and  nobles  made  the 
strength,  however,  equal. 

"  The  regiments  of  Fleur-d'Orange,  Millefleur,  and 
Eau-de-Cologne  covered  themselves  with  glory:  they 
sabred  many  thousands  of  the  enemy's  troops.  Their 
valour  was  ably  seconded  by  the  gallantry  of  my  eccle- 
siastical friends:  at  a  moment  of  danger  they  rallied 
round  my  banner,  and  forsaking  the  crosier  for  the 
sword,  showed  that  they  were  of  the  church  militant 
indeed. 

"  My  faithful  Irish  auxiliaries  conducted  themselves 
with  becoming  heroism— but  why  particularize  when  all 
did  their  duty?  How  remember  individual  acts  when  all 
were  heroes?  "  The  Marshal  of  France,  Sucre  d'Orge- 
ville,  Commander  of  the  Army  of  H.  M.  Christian  Maj- 
esty, recommended  about  three  thousand  persons  for 
promotion ;  and  the  indignation  of  Jenkins  and  his  brave 
companions  may  be  imagined  when  it  is  stated  that  they 
were  not  even  mentioned  in  the  despatch ! 

As  for  the  Princes  of  Ballybunion,  Donegal,  and  Con- 
nemara,  they  wrote  off  despatches  to  their  Government, 
saying,  "  The  Duke  of  Nemours  is  beaten,  and  a  pris- 
oner !  The  Irish  Brigade  has  done  it  all !  "  On  which  his 
Majesty  the  King  of  the  Irish,  convoking  his  Parlia- 
ment at  the  Corn  Exchange  Palace,  Dublin,  made  a 
speech,  in  which  he  called  Louis  Philippe  an  "  old  mis- 
creant," and  paid  the  highest  compliments  to  his  son  and 
his  troops.  The  King  on  this  occasion  knighted  Sir 
Henry  Sheehan,  Sir  Gavan  Duffy  (whose  journals  had 
published  the  news),  and  was  so  delighted  with  the  val- 
our of  his  son,  that  lie  despatched  him  liis  Order  of  the 
Pig  and  Whistle  (1st  class) ,  and  a  munificent  present  of 


502  THE  HISTORY  OF  THE 

five  hundred  thousand  pounds— in  a  bill  at  three  months. 
All  Dublin  was  illuminated ;  and  at  a  ball  at  the  Castle 
the  Lord  Chancellor  Smith  (Earl  of  Smithereens)  get- 
ting extremely  intoxicated,  called  out  the  Lord  Bishop 
of  Galway  (the  Dove) ,  and  they  fought  in  the  Phoenix 
Park.  Having  shot  the  Right  Reverend  Bishop  through 
the  body,  Smithereens  apologized.  He  was  the  same 
practitioner  who  had  rendered  himself  so  celebrated  in 
the  memorable  trial  of  the  King— before  the  Act  of  In- 
dependence. 

Meanwhile,  the  army  of  Prince  Henri  advanced  with 
rapid  strides  towards  Paris,  whither  the  History  likewise 
must  hasten ;  for  extraordinary  were  the  events  prepar- 
ing in  that  capital. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE   LEAGUER   OF    PARIS 


By  a  singular  coincidence,  on  the  very  same  day  when 
the  armies  of  Henri  V.  appeared  before  Paris  from  the 
Western  Road,  those  of  the  Emperor  John  Thomas  Na- 
poleon arrived  from  the  North.  Skirmishes  took  place 
between  the  advanced-guards  of  the  two  parties,  and 
much  slaughter  ensued. 

"  Bon!  "  thought  King  Louis  Philippe,  who  examined 
them  from  his  tower;  "  they  will  kill  each  other.  This 
is  by  far  the  most  economical  way  of  getting  rid  of 
them."  The  astute  monarch's  calculations  were  admir- 
ably exposed  by  a  clever  remark  of  the  Prince  of  Bally- 
bunion.     "  Faix,  Harry,"  says  he   (with  a  familiarity 


NEXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTION        503 

which  the  punctihous  son  of  Saint  Louis  resented) ,  "  you 
and  him  yandther— the  Emperor,  I  mane— are  like  the 
Kilkenny  cats,  dear." 

"  Et  que  font-ils  ces  chats  de  Kilkigny,  Monsieur  le 
Prince  de  Ballybunion?  "  asked  the  Most  Christian  King 
haughtily. 

Prince  Daniel  replied  by  narrating  the  well-known 
apologue  of  the  animals  "  ating  each  other  all  up  but 
their  teels;  and  that's  what  you  and  Imparial  Pop  yond- 
ther  will  do,  blazing  away  as  ye  are,"  added  the  jocose 
and  royal  boy. 

"  Je  prie  votre  Altesse  Royale  de  vaguer  a  ses  propres 
affaires,"  answered  Prince  Henri  sternly:  for  he  was  an 
enemy  to  anything  like  a  joke;  but  there  is  always  wis- 
dom in  real  wit,  and  it  would  have  been  well  for  his  Most 
Christian  Majesty  had  he  followed  the  facetious  coun- 
sels of  his  Irish  ally. 

The  fact  is,  the  King,  Henri,  had  an  understanding 
with  the  garrisons  of  some  of  the  forts,  and  expected  all 
would  declare  for  him.  However,  of  the  twenty-four 
forts  which  we  have  described,  eight  only  —  and  by  the 
means  of  ^Marshal  Soult,  who  had  grown  extremely  de- 
vout of  late  years — declared  for  Henri,  and  raised  the 
white  flag:  while  eight  others,  seeing  Prince  John 
Thomas  Napoleon  before  them  in  the  costimie  of  his  re- 
vered predecessor,  at  once  flung  open  their  gates  to  him, 
and  mounted  the  tricolour  with  the  eagle.  The  remain- 
ing eight,  into  which  the  Princes  of  the  blood  of  Orleans 
had  thrown  themselves,  remained  constant  to  Louis 
Philippe.  Nothing  could  induce  that  Prince  to  quit  tlie 
Tuileries.  His  money  was  there,  and  he  swore  he  would 
remain  by  it.  In  vain  his  sons  offered  to  bring  him  into 
one  of  the  forts— he  would  not  stir  without  his  treasure. 


504 


THE  HISTORY  OF  THE 


They  said  they  would  transport  it  thither ;  but  no,  no :  the 
patriarchal  monarch,  putting  his  finger  to  his  aged  nose, 


and  winking  archly,  said  "  he  knew  a  trick  worth  two  of 
that,"  and  resolved  to  abide  by  his  bags. 

The  theatres  and  cafes  remained  open  as  usual:  the 
funds  rose  three  centimes.  The  Journal  des  Dehats  pub- 
lished three  editions  of  different  tones  of  politics:  one, 
the  Journal  de  VEmjnre,  for  the  Napoleonites ;  the  Jour- 
nal de  la  Legitiniite  another,  very  complimentary  to  the 
Legitimate  monarch;  and  finally,  the  original  edition, 
bound  heart  and  soul  to  the  dynasty  of  July.  The  poor 
editor,  who  had  to  write  all  three,  complained  not  a  little 
that  his  salary  was  not  raised:  but  the  truth  is,  that,  by 
altering  the  names,  one  article  did  indifferently  for 
either  paper.    The  Duke  of  Brittany,  under  the  title  of 


NEXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTION        505 

Louis  XVII. ,  was  always  issuing  manifestoes  from 
Charenton,  but  of  these  the  Parisians  took  Httle  heed:  the 
Charivari  proclaimed  itself  his  Gazette,  and  was  allowed 
to  be  very  witty  at  the  expense  of  the  three  pretenders. 

As  the  country  had  been  ravaged  for  a  hundred  miles 
round,  the  respective  Princes  of  course  were  for  throw- 
ing themselves  into  the  forts,  where  there  was  plenty  of 
provision;  and,  when  once  there,  they  speedily  began  to 
turn  out  such  of  the  garrison  as  were  disagreeable  to 
them,  or  had  an  inconvenient  apjDctite,  or  were  of  a 
doubtful  fidelity.  These  poor  fellows  turned  into  the 
road,  had  no  choice  but  starvation;  as  to  getting  into 
Paris,  that  was  impossible:  a  mouse  could  not  have  got 
into  the  place,  so  admirably  were  the  forts  guarded, 
without  having  his  head  taken  off  by  a  cannon-ball. 
Thus  the  three  conflicting  parties  stood,  close  to  each 
other,  hating  each  other,  "  willing  to  wound  and  yet 
afraid  to  strike  "—the  victuals  in  the  forts,  from  the  pro- 
digious increase  of  the  garrisons,  getting  smaller  every 
day.  As  for  Louis  Philippe  in  his  palace,  in  the  centre 
of  the  twenty-four  forts,  knowing  that  a  spark  from  one 
might  set  them  all  blazing  away,  and  that  he  and  his 
money-bags  might  be  blown  into  eternity  in  ten  minutes, 
you  may  fancy  his  situation  was  not  very  comfortable. 

But  his  safety  lay  in  his  treasure.  Neither  the  Impe- 
rialists nor  the  Rourbonites  were  willing  to  relinquish  tlie 
two  hundred  and  fifty  billions  in  gokl;  nor  would  the 
Princes  of  Orleans  dare  to  fire  upon  that  considerable 
sum  of  money,  and  its  possessor,  their  revered  father. 
How  was  this  state  of  things  to  end  ?  The  Emperor  sent 
a  note  to  his  Most  Christian  Majesty  (for  they  always 
styled  each  other  in  this  manner  in  their  communica- 
tions), proposing  that  they  should  turn  out  and  decide 


506 


THE  HISTORY  OF  THE 


the  quarrel  sword  in  hand;  to  which  proposition  Henri 
would  have  acceded,  but  that  the  priests,  his  ghostly 
counsellors,  threatened  to  excommunicate  him  should  he 
do  so.  Hence  this  simple  way  of  settling  the  dispute  was 
impossible. 

The  presence  of  the  holy  fathers  caused  considerable 
annoyance  in  the  forts.  Especially  the  poor  English,  as 
Protestants,  were  subject  to  much  petty  persecution,  to 
the  no  small  anger  of  Jenkins,  their  commander.  And  it 
must  be  confessed  that  these  intrepid  Footmen  were  not 
so  amenable  to  discipline  as  they  might  have  been.  Re- 
membering the  usages  of  merry  England,  they  clubbed 
together,  and  swore  they  would  have  four  meals  of  meat 
a  day,  wax-candles  in  the  casemates,  and  their  porter. 
These  demands  were  laughed  at:  the  priests  even  called 
upon  them  to  fast  on  Fridays;  on  which  a  general  mu- 
tiny broke  out  in  the  regiment ;  and  they  would  have  had 
a  fourth  standard  raised  before  Paris— viz.  that  of  Eng- 
land—but the  garrison  proving  too  strong  for  them,  they 


NEXT   FRENCH   REVOLUTION        507 

were  compelled  to  lay  down  their  sticks ;  and,  in  consid- 
eration of  past  services,  were  permitted  to  leave  the  forts. 
'Twas  well  for  them !  as  you  shall  hear. 

The  Prince  of  Ballybunion  and  the  Irish  force  were 
quartered  in  the  fort  which,  in  compliment  to  them,  was 
called  Fort  Potato,  and  where  they  made  themselves  as 
comfortable  as  circumstances  would  admit.  The  Princes 
had  as  much  brandy  as  they  liked,  and  passed  their  time 
on  the  ramparts  playing  at  dice,  or  pitch-and-toss  (with 
the  halfpenny  that  one  of  them  somehow  had)  for  vast 
sums  of  money,  for  which  they  gave  their  notes-of-hand. 
The  warriors  of  their  legion  would  stand  round  de- 
lighted; and  it  was,  "  Musha,  Master  Dan,  but  that's  a 
good  throw!"  "Good  luck  to  you,  Misther  Pat,  and 
throw  thirteen  this  time!  "  and  so  forth.  But  this  sort  of 
inaction  could  not  last  long.  They  had  heard  of  the 
treasures  amassed  in  the  palace  of  the  Tuileries:  they 
sighed  when  they  thought  of  the  lack  of  bullion  in  their 
green  and  beautiful  country.  They  panted  for  war! 
They  formed  their  plan. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE    HATTLK    OF    TIIK    FORTS 

On  the  morning  of  the  26th  October,  1884,  as  his 
Majesty  Louis  Philippe  was  at  })reakfast  reading  the 
Debats  newspaper,  and  wisliing  that  what  the  journal 
said  about  "  Cholera  Morbus  in  the  Camp  of  the  Pre- 
tender Henri,"—"  Chicken-pox  raging  in  the  Forts  of 
the  Traitor  Bonaparte,"— might  be  true,  what  was  liis 


508  THE  HISTORY  OF  THE 

surprise  to  hear  the  report  of  a  gun ;  and  at  the  same  in- 
stant—whizz! came  an  eighty-four-pound  ball  through 
the  window  and  took  off  the  head  of  the  faithful  Mon- 
sieur de  Montalivet,  who  was  coming  in  with  a  plate  of 
muffins. 


"Three  francs  for  the  window,"  said  the  monarch; 
''  and  the  muffins  of  course  spoiled!  "  and  he  sat  down  to 
breakfast  very  peevishly.  Ah,  King  Louis  Phihppe, 
that  shot  cost  thee  more  than  a  Avindow-pane— more  than 
a  plate  of  muffins— it  cost  thee  a  fair  kingdom  and  fifty 
millions  of  tax-payers. 

The  shot'  had  been  fired  from  Fort  Potato.  "  Gra- 
cious heavens!  "  said  the  commander  of  the  place  to  the 
Irish  Prince,  in  a  fury,  "  What  has  your  Highness 
done?  "  "  Faix,"  replied  the  other,  "  Donegal  and  I  saw 
a  sparrow  on  the  Tuileries,  and  we  thought  we'd  have  a 
shot  at  it,  that's  all."  "  Hurroo!  look  out  for  squalls," 
here  cried  the  intrepid  Hibernian;  for  at  this  moment 
one  of  Paixhans'  shells  fell  into  the  counterscarp  of  the 
demilune  on  which  they  were  standing,  and  sent  a  rave- 
lin and  a  couple  of  embrasures  flying  about  their  ears. 

Fort  T^^enty-three,  which  held  out  for  Louis  Phi- 
lippe, seeing  Fort  Twenty-four,  or  Potato,  open  a  fire  on 


NEXT   FRENCH   REVOLUTION        509 

the  Tuileries,  instantly  replied  by  its  guns,  with  which  it 
blazed  away  at  the  Bourbonite  fort.  On  seeing  this, 
Fort  Twenty-two,  occupied  by  the  Imperialists,  be- 
gan pummelling  T  wenty -three ;  Twenty -one  began  at 
Twenty-two;  and  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour  the  whole  of 
this  vast  line  of  fortification  was  in  a  blaze  of  flame, 
flashing,  roaring,  cannonading,  rocketing,  bombing,  in 
the  most  tremendous  manner.  The  world  has  never  per- 
haps, before  or  since,  heard  such  an  uproar.  Fancy 
twenty-four  thousand  guns  thundering  at  each  other. 
Fancy  the  sky  red  with  the  fires  of  hundreds  of  thou- 
sands of  blazing,  brazen  meteors ;  the  air  thick  with  im- 
penetrable smoke— the  universe  almost  in  a  flame!  for 
the  noise  of  the  cannonading  was  heard  on  the  peaks  of 
the  Andes,  and  broke  three  windows  in  the  English  fac- 
tory at  Canton.  Boom,  boom,  boom!  for  three  daj^s  in- 
cessantly the  gigantic— I  may  say,  Cyclopean  battle 
went  on:  boom,  boom,  boom,  bong!  The  air  was  thick 
with  cannon-balls:  they  hurtled,  they  jostled  each  other 
in  the  heavens,  and  fell  whizzing,  whirling,  crashing, 
back  into  the  very  forts  from  which  they  came.  Boom, 
boom,  boom,  bong— brrwrrwrrr! 

On  the  second  day  a  band  might  have  been  seen  (had 
the  smoke  permitted  it)  assembling  at  the  sally-port  of 
Fort  Potato,  and  have  been  heard  (if  the  tremendous 
clang  of  the  cannonading  had  allowed  it)  giving  myste- 
rious signs  and  countersigns.  "  Tom,"  was  the  word 
w^hispered,  "  Steele  "  was  the  sibilated  response.  (It  is 
astonishing  how,  in  the  roar  of  elements,  the  liuinan  whis- 
per hisses  above  all!)  It  was  the  Irish  Brigade  assem- 
bling. "  Now  or  never,  boys!  "  said  their  leaders;  and 
sticking  their  doodeens  into  their  mouths,  they  dropped 
stealthily  into  the  trenches,  heedless  of  the  broken  glass 


510 


THE  HISTORY  OF  THE 


and  sword-blades;  rose  from  those  trenches;  formed  in 
silent  order;  and  marched  to  Paris.  They  knew  they 
could  arrive  there  unobserved— nobody,  indeed,  re- 
marked their  absence. 

The  frivolous  Parisians  were,  in  the  meanwhile,  amus- 
ing themselves  at  their  theatres  and  cafes  as  usual;  and  a 
new  piece,  in  which  Arnal  performed,  was  the  universal 
talk  of  the  foyers:  while  a  new  feuilleton  by  Monsieur 
Eugene  Sue,  kept  the  attention  of  the  reader  so  fasci- 
nated to  the  journal,  that  they  did  not  care  in  the  least 
for  the  vacarme  without  the  walls. 


CHAPTER  IX 


I.OUIS   XVII. 


The  tremendous  cannonading,  however,  had  a  singular 
effect  upon  the  inhabitants  of  the  great  public  hospital 
of  Charenton,  in  which  it  may  be  remembered  Louis 


NEXT   FRENCH   REVOLUTION        511 

XVII.  had  been,  as  in  mockery,  confined.  His  majesty 
of  demeanour,  his  calm  deportment,  the  reasonableness 
of  his  pretensions,  had  not  failed  to  strike  with  awe  and 
respect  his  four  thousand  comrades  of  captivity.  The 
Emperor  of  China,  the  Princess  of  the  Moon,  Julius 
Caesar,  Saint  Genevieve,  the  patron  saint  of  Paris,  the 
Pope  of  Rome,  the  Cacique  of  JNIexico,  and  several  sin- 
gular and  illustrious  personages  who  happened  to  be 
confined  there,  all  held  a  council  with  Louis  XVII. ;  and 
all  agreed  that  now  or  never  was  the  time  to  support  his 
legitimate  pretensions  to  the  Crown  of  France.  As  the 
cannons  roared  around  them,  they  howled  with  furious 
delight  in  response.  They  took  counsel  together:  Doc- 
tor Pinel  and  the  infamous  jailors,  who,  under  the  name 
of  keepers,  held  them  in  horrible  captivity,  were  pounced 
upon  and  overcome  in  a  twinkling.  The  strait-waist- 
coats were  taken  off  from  the  wretched  captives  lan- 
guishing in  the  dungeons;  the  guardians  were  invested 
in  these  shameful  garments,  and  with  triumphant  laugh- 
ter plunged  under  the  Douches.  The  gates  of  the  prison 
were  flung  open,  and  they  marched  forth  in  the  blackness 
of  the  storm ! 

rkt  ^^  ^  ^  ^ 

On  the  third  day,  the  cannonading  was  observed  to  de- 
crease; only  a  gun  went  ofl^  fitfully  now  and  then. 

On  the  fourth  day,  the  Parisians  said  to  one  another, 
"Tiens!  ils  sont  fatigues,  les  canonniers  des  forts!" — 
and  why?  Because  tliere  was  no  more  powder? — Ay, 
truly,  there  was  no  more  powder. 

There  was  no  more  powder,  no  more  guns,  no  more 
gunners,  no  more  forts,  no  more  nothing.  I'he  forts  had 
blown  each  other  up.    The  battle-roar  ceased.    The  bat- 


512  THE  HISTORY  OF  THE 

tie-clouds  rolled  off.  The  silver  moon,  the  twinkling 
stars,  looked  blandly  down  from  the  serene  azure, — and 
all  was  peace— stillness— the  stillness  of  death.  Holy, 
holy  silence! 

Yes:  the  battle  of  Paris  was  over.  And  where  were 
the  combatants?  All  gone — not  one  left! — And  where 
was  Louis  Philippe?  The  venerable  Prince  was  a  cap- 
tive in  the  Tuileries;  the  Irish  Brigade  was  encamped 
around  it:  they  had  reached  the  palace  a  little  too  late; 
it  was  already  occupied  by  the  partisans  of  his  Majesty 
Louis  XVII. 

That  respectable  monarch  and  his  followers  better 
knew  the  way  to  the  Tuileries  than  the  ignorant  sons  of 
Erin.  They  burst  through  the  feeble  barriers  of  the 
guards ;  they  rushed  triumphant  into  the  kingly  halls  of 
the  palace;  they  seated  the  seventeenth  Louis  on  the 
throne  of  his  ancestors;  and  the  Parisians  read  in  the 
Journal  des  Dehats,  of  the  fifth  of  November,  an  impor- 
tant article,  which  proclaimed  that  the  civil  war  was 
concluded :  — 

"  The  troubles  which  distracted  the  greatest  empire  in 
the  world  are  at  an  end.  Europe,  which  marked  with 
sorrow  the  disturbances  which  agitated  the  bosom  of  the 
Queen  of  Nations,  the  great  leader  of  Civilisation,  may 
now  rest  in  peace.  That  monarch  whom  we  have  long 
been  sighing  for;  whose  image  has  lain  hidden,  and  yet 
oh !  how  passionately  worshipped,  in  every  French  heart, 
is  with  us  once  more.  Blessings  be  on  him;  blessings— a 
thousand  blessings  upon  the  happy  country  which  is  at 
length  restored  to  his  beneficent,  his  legitimate,  his 
reasonable  sway ! 

"  His  Most  Christian  Majesty  Louis  XVII.  yesterday 
arrived  at  his  palace  of  the  Tuileries,  accompanied  by 


NEXT   FRENCH  REVOLUTION        513 

his  august  allies.  His  Royal  Highness  the  Duke  of  Or- 
leans has  resigned  his  post  as  Lieutenant-General  of  the 
kingdom,  and  will  return  speedily  to  take  up  his  abode 
at  the  Palais  Royal.  It  is  a  great  mercy  that  the  children 
of  his  Royal  Highness,  who  happened  to  be  in  the  late 
forts  round  Paris,  (before  the  bombardment  which  has 
so  happily  ended  in  their  destruction,)  had  returned  to 
their  father  before  the  commencement  of  the  cannon- 
ading. They  will  continue,  as  heretofore,  to  be  the  most 
loyal  supporters  of  order  and  the  throne. 

"  None  can  read  without  tears  in  their  eyes  our  august 
monarch's  proclamation. 

"  '  Louis,  by  &c. — 

" '  My  children!  After  nine  hundred  and  ninety-nine 
years  of  captivity,  I  am  restored  to  you.  The  cycle  of 
events  predicted  by  the  ancient  Magi,  and  the  planetary 
convolutions  mentioned  in  the  lost  Sibylline  books,  have 
fulfilled  their  respective  idiosyncrasies,  and  ended  (as 
always  in  the  depths  of  my  dungeons  I  confidently  ex- 
pected) in  the  triumph  of  the  good  Angel,  and  the  utter 
discomfiture  of  the  abominable  Blue  Dragon. 

"  '  When  the  bombarding  began,  and  the  powers  of 
darkness  commenced  their  hellish  gunj^owder  evolutions, 
I  was  close  by — in  my  palace  of  Charenton,  three  hun- 
dred and  thirty-three  thousand  miles  off,  in  the  ring  of 
Saturn — I  witnessed  your  misery.  ]My  heart  was  af- 
fected by  it,  and  I  said,  "  Is  the  multij)Iication-table  a 
fiction?  are  the  signs  of  the  Zodiac  mere  astronomers' 
prattle?" 

"  '  I  clapped  chains,  shrieking  and  darkness,  on  my 
physician.  Dr.  Pinel.  The  keepers  I  shall  cause  to  be 
roasted  alive.  I  summoned  my  allies  round  about  me. 
The  high  contracting  Powers  came  to  my  bidding:  mon- 


514 


THE  HISTORY  OF  THE 


archs  from  all  parts  of  the  earth;  sovereigns  from  the 
Moon  and  other  illumined  orbits;  the  white  necroman- 
cers, and  the  pale  imprisoned  genii.  I  whispered  the 
mystic  sign,  and  the  doors  flew  open.  We  entered  Paris 
in  triumph,  by  the  Charenton  bridge.  Our  luggage  was 
not  examined  at  the  Octroi.  The  bottle-green  ones  were 
scared  at  our  shouts,  and  retreated,  howhng:  they  knew 
us,  and  trembled. 


"  '  My  faithful  Peers  and  Deputies  will  rally  around 
me.    I  have  a  friend  in  Turkey— the  Grand  Vizier  of  the 


NEXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTION        515 

Mussulmans :  he  was  a  Protestant  once — Lord  Brougham 
by  name.  I  have  sent  to  him  to  legislate  for  us:  he 
is  wise  in  the  law,  and  astrology,  and  all  sciences ;  he  shall 
aid  my  Ministers  in  their  councils.  I  have  written  to 
him  by  the  post.  There  shall  be  no  more  infamous  mad- 
houses in  France,  where  poor  souls  shiver  in  strait-waist- 
coats. 

"  '  I  recognized  Louis  Philippe,  my  good  cousin.  He 
was  in  his  counting-house,  counting  out  his  money,  as 
the  old  prophecy  warned  me.  He  gave  me  up  the  keys 
of  his  gold ;  I  shall  know  well  how  to  use  it.  Taught  by 
adversity,  I  am  not  a  spendthrift,  neither  am  I  a  miser. 
I  will  endow  the  land  with  noble  institutions  instead  of 
diabolical  forts.  I  will  have  no  more  cannon  founded. 
They  are  a  curse,  and  shall  be  melted— the  iron  ones  into 
railroads ;  the  bronze  ones  into  statues  of  beautiful  saints, 
angels,  and  wise  men ;  the  copper  ones  into  money,  to  be 
distributed  among  my  poor.  I  was  poor  once,  and  I  love 
them. 

"  '  There  shall  be  no  more  poverty;  no  more  wars;  no 
more  avarice;  no  more  passports;  no  more  custom- 
houses ;  no  more  lying :  no  more  physic. 

"  '  My  Chambers  will  put  the  seal  to  these  reforms.  I 
will  it.    I  am  the  king. 

(Signed)  'Louis.'" 


"  Some  alarm  was  created  yesterday  by  the  arrival  of 
a  body  of  the  English  Foot-Guard  under  the  Duke  of 
Jenkins ;  they  were  at  first  about  to  sack  the  city,  but  on 
hearing  that  the  banner  of  the  lilies  was  once  more  raised 
in  France,  the  Duke  hastened  to  the  Tuileries,  and  of- 
fered his  allegiance  to  his  Majesty.     It  was  accepted: 


516  THE  NEXT  FRENCH  REVOLUTION 

and  the  Plush  Guard  has  been  estabHshed  in  place  of  the 
Swiss,  who  waited  on  former  sovereigns." 


**  The  Irish  Brigade  quartered  in  the  Tuileries  are  to 
enter  our  service.  Their  commander  states  that  they 
took  every  one  of  the  forts  round  Paris,  and  having 
blown  them  up,  were  proceeding  to  release  Louis  XVII., 
when  they  found  that  august  monarch,  happily,  free. 
News  of  their  glorious  victory  has  been  conveyed  to 
Dublin,  to  his  Majesty  the  King  of  the  Irish.  It  will  be 
a  new  laurel  to  add  to  his  green  crown!  " 


And  thus  have  we  brought  to  a  conclusion  our  history 
of  the  great  French  Revolution  of  1884.  It  records  the 
actions  of  great  and  various  characters;  the  deeds  of 
various  valour;  it  narrates  wonderful  reverses  of  for- 
tune; it  affords  the  moralist  scope  for  his  philosophy; 
perhaps  it  gives  amusement  to  the  merely  idle  reader. 
Nor  must  the  latter  imagine,  because  there  is  not  a  pre- 
cise moral  affixed  to  the  story,  that  its  tendency  is 
otherwise  than  good.  He  is  a  poor  reader,  for  whom  his 
author  is  obliged  to  supply  a  moral  application.  It  is 
well  in  spelling-books  and  for  children ;  it  is  needless  for 
the  reflecting  spirit.  The  drama  of  Punch  himself  is 
not  moral :  but  that  drama  has  had  audiences  all  over  the 
world.  Happy  he,  who  in  our  dark  times  can  cause  a 
smile !  Let  us  laugh  then,  and  gladden  in  the  sunshine, 
though  it  be  but  as  the  ray  upon  the  pool,  that  flickers 
only  over  the  cold  black  depths  below ! 


COX'S  DIARY 


COX'S  DIARY 


JANUARY— THE  ANNOUNCEMENT 

ON  the  1st  of  January,  1838,  I  was  the  master  of  a 
lovely  shop  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Oxford  Mar- 
ket; of  a  wife,  Mrs.  Cox;  of  a  business,  both  in  the 
shaving  and  cutting  line,  established  three-and-thirty 
years ;  of  a  girl  and  boy  respectively  of  the  ages  of  eigh- 
teen and  thirteen;  of  a  three-windowed  front,  both  to 
my  first  and  second  pair ;  of  a  young  foreman,  my  pres- 
ent partner,  Mr.  Orlando  Crump ;  and  of  that  celebrated 
mixture  for  the  human  hair,  invented  by  my  late  uncle, 
and  called  Cox's  Bohemian  Balsam  of  Tokay,  sold  in 
pots  at  two-and-three  and  three-and-nine.  The  balsam, 
the  lodgings,  and  the  old-established  cutting  and  shav- 
ing business  brought  me  in  a  pretty  genteel  income.  1 
had  my  girl,  Jemimarann,  at  Hackney,  to  school;  my 
dear  boy,  Tuggeridge,  plaited  her  hair  beautifully;  my 
wife  at  the  counter  (behind  the  tray  of  patent  soaps,  &c.) 
cut  as  handsome  a  figure  as  possible ;  and  it  was  my  hope 
that  Orlando  and  my  girl,  who  were  mighty  soft  upon 
one  another,  would  one  day  be  joined  together  in  Ilym- 
ing,  and,  conjointly  with  my  son  Tug,  carry  on  the  busi- 
ness of  hairdressers  when  their  father  was  either  dead  or 
a  gentleman:  for  a  gentleman  me  and  ]Mrs.  C.  deter- 
mined I  should  be. 

Jemima  was,  you  see,  a  lady  herself,  and  of  very  high 

519 


520  COX'S  DIARY 

connections:  though  her  own  family  had  met  with 
crosses,  and  was  rather  low.  Mr.  Tuggeridge,  her  fa- 
ther, kept  the  famous  tripe-shop  near  the  "  Pigtail  and 
Sparrow,"  in  the  Whitechapel  Road;  from  which  place 
I  married  her ;  being  myself  very  fond  of  the  article,  and 
especially  when  she  served  it  to  me — the  dear  thing! 

Jemima's  father  was  not  successful  in  business:  and 
I  married  her,  I  am  proud  to  confess  it,  without  a  shil- 
ling. I  had  my  hands,  my  house,  and  my  Bohemian 
balsam  to  support  her! — and  we  had  hopes  from  her 
uncle,  a  mighty  rich  East  India  merchant,  who,  having 
left  this  country  sixty  years  ago  as  a  cabin-boy,  had  ar- 
rived to  be  the  head  of  a  great  house  in  India,  and  was 
worth  millions,  we  were  told. 

Three  years  after  Jemimarann's  birth  (and  two  after 
the  death  of  my  lamented  father-in-law),  Tuggeridge 
(head  of  the  great  house  of  Budgurow  and  Co.)  retired 
from  the  management  of  it ;  handed  over  his  shares  to  his 
son,  Mr.  John  Tuggeridge,  and  came  to  live  in  England, 
at  Portland  Place,  and  Tuggeridgeville,  Surrey,  and 
enjoy  himself.  Soon  after,  my  wife  took  her  daughter 
in  her  hand  and  went,  as  in  duty  bound,  to  visit  her 
uncle :  but  whether  it  was  that  he  was  proud  and  surly,  or 
she  somewhat  sharp  in  her  way,  (the  dear  girl  fears  no- 
body, let  me  have  you  to  know, )  a  desperate  quarrel  took 
place  between  them ;  and  from  that  day  to  the  day  of  his 
death,  he  never  set  eyes  on  her.  All  that  he  would  con- 
descend to  do,  was  to  take  a  few  dozen  of  lavender-water 
from  us  in  the  course  of  the  year,  and  to  send  his  servants 
to  be  cut  and  shaved  by  us.  All  the  neighbours  laughed 
at  this  poor  ending  of  our  expectations,  for  Jemmy  had 
bragged  not  a  little;  however,  we  did  not  care,  for  the 
connection  was  always  a  good  one,  and  we  served  INIr. 


THE  ANNOUNCEMENT  521 

Hock,  the  valet;  Mr.  Bar,  the  coachman;  and  ^Irs. 
Breadbasket,  the  housekeeper,  wiUingly  enough.  I  used 
to  powder  the  footman,  too,  on  great  days,  but  never  in 
my  hf e  saw  old  Tuggeridge,  except  once :  when  he  said, 
"  Oh,  the  barber!  "  tossed  up  his  nose,  and  passed  on. 

One  day— one  famous  day  last  January— all  our 
INIarket  was  thrown  into  a  high  state  of  excitement  by 
the  appearance  of  no  less  than  three  vehicles  at  our  es- 
tablishment. As  me,  Jemmy,  my  daughter,  Tug,  and 
Orlando,  were  sitting  in  the  back-parlour  over  our  din- 
ner (it  being  Christmas-time,  INIr.  Crump  had  treated 
the  ladies  to  a  bottle  of  port,  and  was  longing  that  there 
should  be  a  mistletoe-bough :  at  which  proposal  my  little 
Jemimarann  looked  as  red  as  a  glass  of  negus)  :— we  had 
just,  I  say,  finished  the  port,  when,  all  of  a  sudden,  Tug 
bellows  out,  "  La,  Pa,  here's  uncle  Tuggeridge's  house- 
keeper in  a  cab! " 

And  Mrs.  Breadbasket  it  was,  sure  enough— Mrs. 
Breadbasket  in  deep  mourning,  who  made  her  way,  bow- 
ing and  looking  very  sad,  into  the  back  shop.  My  wife, 
who  respected  ISIrs.  B.  more  than  anything  else  in  the 
world,  set  her  a  chair,  offered  her  a  glass  of  wine,  and 
vowed  it  was  very  kind  of  her  to  come.  "  T^a,  mem," 
says  Mrs.  B.,  "  I'm  sure  I'd  do  anything  to  serve  your 
family,  for  the  sake  of  that  poor  dear  Tuck-Tuck-tug- 
guggeridge,  that's  gone." 

"  That's  what?  "  cries  my  wife. 

"  What,  gone?  "  cried  Jemimarann,  bursting  out  cry- 
ing (as  little  girls  will  about  anything  or  nothing)  ;  and 
Orlando  looking  very  rueful,  and  ready  to  cry  too. 

"  Yes,  gaw— "  Just  as  she  was  at  tliis  very  "gaw," 
Tug  roars  out,  "La,  Pa!  here's  Mr.  15ar,  uncle  Tug's 
coachman! " 


522  COX'S  DIARY 

It  was  Mr.  Bar.  When  she  saw  him,  INIrs.  Bread- 
basket stepped  suddenly  back  into  the  parlour  with  my 
ladies.  "  What  is  it,  Mr.  Bar?  "  says  I;  and  as  quick  as 
thought,  I  had  the  towel  under  his  chin,  Mr.  Bar  in  the 
chair,  and  the  whole  of  his  face  in  a  beautiful  foam  of 
lather.  ]\Ir.  Bar  made  some  resistance. — "  Don't  think 
of  it,  Mr.  Cox,"  says  he;  "  don't  trouble  yourself,  sir." 
But  I  lathered  away,  and  never  minded.  "And  what's 
this  melancholy  event,  sir,"  says  I,  "  that  has  spread 
desolation  in  your  family's  bosoms?  I  can  feel  for  your 
loss,  sir — I  can  feel  for  your  loss." 

I  said  so  out  of  politeness,  because  I  served  the  family, 
not  because  Tuggeridge  was  my  uncle — no,  as  such  I 
disown  him. 

Mr.  Bar  was  just  about  to  speak.  "  Yes,  sir,"  says  he, 
"my  master's  gaw — "  when  at  the  "  gaw,"  in  walks 
Mr.  Hock,  the  own  man!— the  finest  gentleman  I  ever 
saw. 

"  What,  you  here,  Mr.  Bar!  "  says  he. 

"  Yes,  I  am,  sir;  and  haven't  I  a  right,  sir?  " 

"  A  mighty  wet  day,  sir,"  says  I  to  Mr.  Hock— step- 
ping up  and  making  my  bow.  "A  sad  circumstance  too, 
sir !  And  is  it  a  turn  of  the  tongs  that  you  want  to-day, 
sir?    Ho,  there,  Mr.  Crump!  " 

"  Turn,  Mr.  Crump,  if  you  please,  sir,"  said  Mr. 
Hock,  making  a  bow;  "but  from  you,  sir,  never — no, 
never,  split  me! — and  I  wonder  how  some  fellows  can 
have  the  insolence  to  allow  their  masters  to  shave 
them!  "  With  this,  Mr.  Hock  flung  himself  down  to  be 
curled:  Mr.  Bar  suddenly  opened  his  mouth  in  order  to 
reply;  but  seeing  there  was  a  tiff  between  the  gentlemen, 
and  wanting  to  prevent  a  quarrel,  I  rammed  the  Adver- 
tiser into  Mr.  Hock's  hands,  and  just  popped  my  shav- 


THE  ANNOUNCEMENT  523 

ing-brush  into  IVIr.  Bar's  mouth— a  capital  way  to  stop 
angry  answers. 

]Mr.  Bar  had  hardly  been  in  the  chair  one  second,  when 
whirr  comes  a  hackney-coach  to  the  door,  from  which 
springs  a  gentleman  in  a  black  coat  with  a  bag. 

"  What,  you  here!  "  says  the  gentleman.  I  could  not 
help  smiling,  for  it  seemed  that  everybody  was  to  begin 
by  saying,  "What,  you  here!"  "Your  name  is  Cox, 
sir?  "  says  he;  smiling  too,  as  the  very  pattern  of  mine. 
"  My  name,  sir,  is  Sharpus,— Blunt,  Hone,  and  Sharpus, 
Middle  Temple  Lane,— and  I  am  proud  to  salute  you, 
sir;  happy,— that  is  to  say,  sorry  to  say,  that  Mr.  Tug- 
geridge,  of  Portland  Place,  is  dead,  and  your  lady  is 
heiress,  in  consequence,  to  one  of  the  handsomest  prop- 
erties in  the  kingdom." 

At  this  I  started,  and  might  have  sunk  to  the  ground, 
but  for  my  hold  of  ]Mr.  Bar's  nose ;  Orlando  seemed  pu- 
trified  to  stone,  with  his  irons  fixed  to  INIr.  Hock's  head ; 
our  respective  patients  gave  a  wince  out:— ^Irs.  C,  Je- 
mimarann,  and  Tug,  rushed  from  the  back  shop,  and  we 
formed  a  splendid  tableau  such  as  the  great  Cruikshank 
might  have  depicted. 

"And  Mr.  John  Tuggeridge,  sir?  "  says  I. 

"  Why— hee,  hee,  hee!  "  says  Mr.  Sharpus.  "  Surely 
you  know  that  he  was  only  the— hee,  hee,  hee!— the  nat- 
ural son! " 

You  now  can  understand  why  the  servants  from  Port- 
land Place  had  been  so  eager  to  come  to  us.  One  of  the 
housemaids  heard  Mr.  Sharpus  say  there  was  no  will,  and 
that  my  wife  was  heir  to  the  property,  and  not  Mr.  John 
Tuggeridge :  this  she  told  in  the  housekeeper's  room ;  and 
off,  as  soon  as  they  heard  it,  the  whole  party  set,  in  order 
to  be  the  first  to  bear  the  news. 


524.  COX'S  DIARY 

We  kept  them,  every  one,  in  their  old  places;  for, 
though  my  wife  would  have  sent  them  about  their  busi- 
ness, my  dear  Jemimarann  just  hinted,  "  Mamma,  you 
know  they  have  been  used  to  great  houses,  and  we  have 
not;  had  we  not  better  keep  them  for  a  little?  " — kieep 
them,  then,  we  did,  to  show  us  how  to  be  gentlefolks. 

I  handed  over  the  business  to  Mr.  Crump  without  a 
single  farthing  of  premium,  though  Jemmy  would  have 
made  me  take  four  hundred  pounds  for  it ;  but  this  I  was 
above:  Crump  had  served  me  faithfully,  and  have  the 
shop  he  should. 


FEBRUARY— FIRST  ROUT 

We  were  speedily  installed  in  our  fine  house :  but  what's 
a  house  without  friends?  Jemmy  made  me  cut  all  my 
old  acquaintances  in  the  Market,  and  I  was  a  solitary 
being;  when,  luckily,  an  old  acquaintance  of  ours.  Cap- 
tain Tagrag,  was  so  kind  as  to  promise  to  introduce  us 
into  distinguished  society.  Tagrag  was  the  son  of  a 
baronet,  and  had  done  us  the  honour  of  lodging  with  us 
for  two  years ;  when  we  lost  sight  of  him,  and  of  his  little 
account,  too,  by  the  way.  A  fortnight  after,  hearing  of 
our  good  fortune,  he  was  among  us  again,  however;  and 
Jemmy  was  not  a  little  glad  to  see  him,  knowing  him  to 
be  a  baronet's  son,  and  very  fond  of  our  Jemimarann. 
Indeed,  Orlando  (who  is  as  brave  as  a  lion)  had  on  one 
occasion  absolutely  beaten  Mr.  Tagrag  for  being  rude 
to  the  poor  girl:  a  clear  proof,  as  Tagrag  said  after- 
wards, that  he  was  always  fond  of  her. 

Mr.  Crump,  poor  fellow,  was  not  very  much  pleased 
by  our  good  fortune,  though  he  did  all  he  could  to  try 


FIRST  ROUT  525 

at  first;  and  I  told  him  to  come  and  take  his  dinner 
regular,  as  if  nothing  had  happened.  But  to  this  Jemima 
very  soon  put  a  stop,  for  she  came  very  justly  to  know 
her  stature,  and  to  look  down  on  Crump,  which  she  bid 
her  daughter  to  do;  and,  after  a  great  scene,  in  which 
Orlando  showed  himself  very  rude  and  angry,  he  was 
forbidden  the  house — for  ever! 

So  much  for  poor  Crump.  The  Captain  was  now  all 
in  all  with  us.  "  You  see,  sir,"  our  Jemmy  would  say, 
"we  shall  have  our  town  and  country  mansion,  and  a 
hundred  and  thirty  thousand  pounds  in  the  funds,  to 
leave  between  our  two  children ;  and,  with  such  prospects, 
they  ought  surely  to  have  the  first  society  of  England." 
To  this  Tagrag  agreed,  and  promised  to  bring  us  ac- 
quainted with  the  very  pink  of  the  fashion;  ay,  and 
what's  more,  did. 

First,  he  made  my  wife  get  an  opera-box,  and  give 
suppers  on  Tuesdays  and  Saturdays.  As  for  me,  he 
made  me  ride  in  the  Park:  me  and  Jemimarann,  with 
two  grooms  behind  us,  who  used  to  laugh  all  the  way, 
and  whose  very  beards  I  had  shaved.  As  for  little  Tug, 
he  was  sent  straight  off  to  the  most  fashionable  school 
in  the  kingdom,  the  Reverend  Doctor  Pigney's,  at  Rich- 
mond. 

Well,  the  horses,  the  suppers,  the  opera-box,  the  para- 
graphs in  the  papers  about  Mr.  Coxe  Coxe  (that's  the 
way:  double  your  name  and  stick  an  "  e  "  to  the  end  of 
it,  and  you  are  a  gentleman  at  once) ,  had  an  effect  in  a 
wonderfully  short  pace  of  time,  and  we  began  to  get  a 
very  pretty  society  about  us.  Some  of  old  Tug's  friends 
swore  they  would  do  anything  for  the  family,  and 
brought  their  wives  and  daugliters  to  see  dear  INIrs.  Coxe 
and  her  charming  girl;  and  when,  about  the  first  week  in 


526  COX'S  DIARY 

February,  we  announced  a  grand  dinner  and  ball  for 
the  evening  of  the  twenty-eighth,  I  assure  you  there  was 
no  want  of  company:  no,  nor  of  titles  neither;  and  it 
always  does  my  heart  good  even  to  hear  one  mentioned. 

Let  me  see.  There  was,  first,  my  Lord  Dunboozle,  an 
Irish  peer,  and  his  seven  sons,  the  Honourable  Messieurs 
Trumper  (two  only  to  dinner)  ;  there  was  Count  Mace, 
the  celebrated  French  nobleman,  and  his  Excellency 
Baron  von  Punter  from  Baden;  there  was  Lady  Blanche 
Bluenose,  the  eminent  literati,  author  of  "  The  Dis- 
trusted," "  The  Distorted,"  "  The  Disgusted,"  "  The 
Disreputable  One,"  and  other  poems;  there  was  the 
Dowager  Lady  Max  and  her  daughter,  the  Honourable 
Miss  Adelaide  Blueruin;  Sir  Charles  Codshead,  from 
the  City;  and  Field-Marshal  Sir  Gorman  O'Gallagher, 
K.A.,  K.B.,  K.C.,  K.W.,  K.X.,  in  the  service  of  the 
Republic  of  Guatemala :  my  friend  Tagrag  and  his  fash- 
ionable acquaintance,  little  Tom  Tufthunt,  made  up  the 
party.  And  when  the  doors  were  flung  open,  and  Mr. 
Hock,  in  black,  with  a  white  napkin,  three  footmen, 
coachman,  and  a  lad  whom  Mrs.  C.  had  dressed  in  sugar- 
loaf  buttons  and  called  a  page,  were  seen  round  the 
dinner-table,  all  in  white  gloves,  I  promise  you  I  felt  a 
thrill  of  elation,  and  thought  to  myself —  Sam  Cox,  Sam 
Cox,  who  ever  would  have  expected  to  see  you  here  ? 

After  dinner,  there  was  to  be,  as  I  said,  an  evening- 
party  ;  and  to  this  Messieurs  Tagrag  and  Tufthunt  had 
invited  many  of  the  principal  nobility  that  our  metropo- 
lis had  produced.  When  I  mention,  among  the  company 
to  tea,  her  Grace  the  Duchess  of  Zero,  her  son  the  Mar- 
quis of  Fitzurse,  and  the  Ladies  North  Pole  her  daugh- 
ters ;  when  I  say  that  there  were  yet  others,  whose  names 
may  be  found  in  the  Blue  Book,  but  shan't,  out  of 


FIRST  ROUT  527 

modesty,  be  mentioned  here,  I  think  I've  said  enough  to 
show  that,  in  our  time,  No.  96,  Portland  Place,  was  the 
resort  of  the  best  of  company. 

It  was  our  first  dinner,  and  dressed  by  our  new  cook, 
INIunseer  Cordongblew.  I  bore  it  very  well;  eating,  for 
my  share,  a  filly  dysol  allamater  dotell,  a  cutlet  soubeast, 
a  pulty  bashymall,  and  other  French  dishes :  and,  for  the 
frisky  sweet  wine,  with  tin  tops  to  the  bottles,  called 
Champang,  I  must  say  that  me  and  Mrs.  Coxe-Tug- 
geridge  Coxe  drank  a  very  good  share  of  it  (but  the 
Claret  and  Jonnysberger,  being  sour,  we  did  not  much 
relish) .  However,  the  feed,  as  I  say,  went  off  very  well : 
Lady  Blanche  Bluenose  sitting  next  to  me,  and  being  so 
good  as  to  put  me  down  for  six  copies  of  all  her  poems ; 
the  Count  and  Baron  von  Punter  engaging  Jemimarann 
for  several  waltzes,  and  the  Field-Marshal  plying  my 
dear  Jemmy  with  Champang,  until,  bless  her!  her  dear 
nose  became  as  red  as  her  new  crimson  satin  gown,  which, 
with  a  blue  turban  and  bird-of -paradise  feathers,  made 
her  look  like  an  empress,  I  warrant. 

Well,  dinner  past,  Mrs.  C.  and  the  ladies  went  off:— 
thunder-under-under  came  the  knocks  at  the  door; 
squeedle-eedle-eedle,  IVIr.  Wippert's  fiddlers  began  to 
strike  up ;  and,  about  half -past  eleven,  me  and  the  gents 
thought  it  high  time  to  make  our  appearance.  I  felt  a 
little  squeamish  at  the  thought  of  meeting  a  couple  of 
liundred  great  people;  but  Count  Mace  and  Sir  Gorman 
O'Gallagher  taking  each  an  arm,  we  reached,  at  last,  the 
drawing-room. 

The  young  ones  in  company  were  dancing,  and  the 
Duchess  and  the  great  ladies  were  all  seated,  talking  to 
themselves  very  stately,  and  working  away  at  the  ices 
and  macaroons.     I  looked  out  for  my  pretty  Jemima- 


528  COX'S  DIARY 

rann  amongst  the  dancers,  and  saw  her  tearing  round 
the  room  along  with  Baron  Punter,  in  what  they  call  a 
gallypard ;  then  I  peeped  into  the  circle  of  the  Duchesses, 
where,  in  course,  I  expected  to  find  Mrs.  C;  but  she 
wasn't  there !  She  was  seated  at  the  further  end  of  the 
room,  looking  very  sulky;  and  I  went  up  and  took  her 
arm,  and  brought  her  down  to  the  place  where  the 
Duchesses  were.  "  Oh,  not  there!  "  said  Jemmy,  trying 
to  break  away.  "  Nonsense,  my  dear,"  says  I :  "  you  are 
missis,  and  this  is  your  place."  Then  going  up  to  her 
ladyship  the  Duchess,  says  I,  "  Me  and  my  missis  are 
most  proud  of  the  honour  of  seeing  of  you." 

The  Duchess  (a  tall  red-haired  grenadier  of  a  woman) 
did  not  speak. 

I  went  on:  "  The  young  ones  are  all  at  it,  ma'am,  you 
see;  and  so  we  thought  we  would  come  and  sit  down 
among  the  old  ones.  You  and  I,  ma'am,  I  think,  are  too 
stiff  to  dance." 

"  Sir!  "  says  her  Grace. 

"  Ma'am,"  says  I,  "  don't  you  know  me?  My  name's 
Cox.  Nobody's  introduced  me ;  but,  dash  it,  it's  my  own 
house,  and  I  may  present  myself —so  give  us  your  hand, 
ma'am." 

And  I  shook  hers  in  the  kindest  way  in  the  world:  but 
—would  you  believe  it?— the  old  cat  screamed  as  if  my 
hand  had  been  a  hot  'tater.  "Fitzurse!  Fitzurse!" 
shouted  she,  "help!  help!"  Up  scuffled  all  the  other 
Dowagers— in  rushed  the  dancers.  "  Mamma !  mamma ! " 
squeaked  Lady  Julia  North  Pole.  "  Lead  me  to  my 
mother,"  howled  Lady  Aurorer:  and  both  came  up  and 
flung  themselves  into  her  arms.  "  Wawt's  the  raw? " 
said  Lord  Fitzurse,  sauntering  up  quite  stately. 

"  Protect  me  from  the  insults  of  this  man,"  says  her 


A  DAY  WITH  THE   SURREY  HOUNDS  529 

Grace.  "  Where's  Tufthunt?  he  promised  that  not  a 
soul  in  this  house  should  speak  to  me." 

"  My  dear  Duchess,"  said  Tufthunt,  very  meek. 

"Don't  Duchess  mCj  sir.  Did  you  not  promise  they 
should  not  speak;  and  hasn't  that  horrid  tipsy  wretch 
offered  to  embrace  me?  Didn't  his  monstrous  wife 
sicken  me  with  her  odious  familiarities  ?  Call  my  people, 
Tufthunt!    Follow  me,  my  children!  " 

"And  my  carriage,"  "And  mine!"  "And  mine!" 
shouted  twenty  more  voices.  And  down  they  all  trooped 
to  the  hall:  Lady  Blanche  Bluenose  and  Lady  INIax 
among  the  very  first;  leaving  only  the  Field-^Iarshal 
and  one  or  two  men,  who  roared  with  laughter  ready  to 
split.. 

"  Oh,  Sam,"  said  my  wife,  sobbing,  "  why  would  you 
take  me  back  to  them?  they  had  sent  me  away  before!  I 
only  asked  the  Duchess  whether  she  didn't  like  rum- 
shrub  better  than  all  your  Maxarinos  and  Curasosos: 
and— would  you  believe  it?— all  the  company  burst  out 
laughing;  and  the  Duchess  told  me  just  to  keep  off,  and 
not  to  speak  till  I  was  spoken  to.  Imperence!  I'd  like 
to  tear  her  eyes  out." 

And  so  I  do  believe  my  dearest  Jemmy  would ! 


MARCH-A  DAY  WITH  THE  SURRFA^  HOUNDS 

Our  ball  had  failed  so  completely  that  Jemmy,  who  was 
bent  still  upon  fashion,  caught  eagerly  at  Tagrag's  sug- 
gestion, and  went  down  to  Tuggeridgcville.  If  we  liad 
a  difficulty  to  find  friends  in  town,  here  there  was  none: 
for  the  whole  county  came  about  us,  ate  our  dinners  and 


530  COX'S  DIARY 

suppers,  danced  at  our  balls— ay,  and  spoke  to  us  too. 
We  were  great  people  in  fact :  I  a  regular  country  gen- 
tleman; and  as  such,  Jemmy  insisted  that  I  should  be  a 
sportsman,  and  join  the  county  hunt.  "  But,"  says  I, 
"my  love,  I  can't  ride."  "Pooh!  Mr.  C,"  said  she, 
"you're  always  making  difficulties:  you  thought  you 
couldn't  dance  a  quadrille;  you  thought  you  couldn't 
dine  at  seven  o'clock;  you  thought  you  couldn't  lie 
in  bed  after  six;  and  haven't  you  done  every  one  of 
these  things?  You  must  and  you  shall  ride!"  And 
when  my  Jemmy  said  "  must  and  shall,"  I  knew  very 
well  there  was  nothing  for  it:  so  I  sent  down  fifty 
guineas  to  the  hunt,  and,  out  of  compliment  to  me,  the 
very  next  week,  I  received  notice  that  the  meet  of  the 
hounds  would  take  place  at  Squashtail  Common,  just 
outside  my  lodge-gates. 

I  didn't  know  what  a  meet  was ;  and  me  and  Mrs.  C. 
agreed  that  it  was  most  probable  the  dogs  were  to  be 
fed  there.  However,  Tagrag  explained  this  matter  to 
us,  and  very  kindly  promised  to  sell  me  a  horse,  a  de- 
lightful animal  of  his  own;  which,  being  desperately 
pressed  for  money,  he  would  let  me  have  for  a  hundred 
guineas,  he  himself  having  given  a  hundred  and  fifty 
for  it. 

Well,  the  Thursday  came :  the  hounds  met  on  Squash- 
tail  Common;  Mrs.  C.  turned  out  in  her  barouche  to  see 
us  throw  off;  and,  being  helped  up  on  my  chestnut 
horse.  Trumpeter,  by  Tagrag  and  my  head  groom,  I 
came  presently  round  to  join  them. 

Tag  mounted  his  own  horse ;  and,  as  we  walked  down 
the  avenue,  "  I  thought,"  he  said,  "  you  told  me  you 
knew  how  to  ride;  and  that  you  had  ridden  once  fifty 
miles  on  a  stretch!  " 


A  DAY  WITH  THE   SURREY  HOUNDS  531 

"  And  so  I  did,"  says  I,  "  to  Cambridge,  and  on  the 
box  too." 

''  On  the  box!"  says  he;  "  but  did  you  ever  mount  a 
horse  before? " 

"  Never,"  says  I,  "  but  I  find  it  mighty  easy." 

"  Well,"  says  he,  "  you're  mighty  bold  for  a  barber; 
and  I  like  you,  Coxe,  for  your  spirit."  And  so  we  came 
out  of  the  gate. 

As  for  describing  the  hunt,  I  own,  fairly,  I  can't. 
I've  been  at  a  hunt,  but  what  a  hunt  is — why  the  horses 
will  go  among  the  dogs  and  ride  them  down — why  the 
men  cry  out  "  yooooic  " — why  the  dogs  go  snuffing 
about  in  threes  and  fours,  and  the  huntsman  says, 
"  Good  Towler — good  Betsy,"  and  we  all  of  us  after 
him  say,  "  Good  Towler — good  Betsy  "  in  course:  then, 
after  hearing  a  yelp  here  and  a  howl  there,  tow,  row, 
yow,  yow,  j^ow!  burst  out,  all  of  a  sudden,  from  three 
or  four  of  them,  and  the  chap  in  a  velvet  cap  screeches 
out  (with  a  number  of  oaths  I  shan't  repeat  here), 
"Hark,  to  Ringwood!"  and  then,  "There  he  goes!" 
says  some  one ;  and  all  of  a  sudden,  belter  skelter,  skuriy 
hurry,  slap  bang,  whooping,  screeching  and  hurraing, 
blue-coats  and  red-coats,  bays  and  greys,  horses,  dogs, 
donkeys,  butchers,  baro-knights,  dustmen,  and  black- 
guard boys,  go  tearing  all  together  over  the  common 
after  two  or  three  of  the  pack  that  yowl  loudest.  Why 
all  this  is,  I  can't  say;  but  it  all  took  place  the  second 
Thursday  of  last  March,  in  my  presence. 

Up  to  this,  I'd  kept  my  seat  as  well  as  the  best,  for 
we'd  only  been  trotting  gently  a])out  the  field  until  the 
dogs  found;  and  I  managed  to  stick  on  very  well;  but 
directly  the  tow-rowing  began,  off  went  Trumpeter  like 
a  thunderbolt,  and  I  found  myself  playing  among  the 


532  COX'S  DIARY 

dogs  like  the  donkey  among  the  chickens.  "  Back,  Mr. 
Coxe,"  holloas  the  huntsman;  and  so  I  pulled  very  hard, 
and  cried  out,  "  Wo!  "  but  he  wouldn't;  and  on  I  went 
galloping  for  the  dear  life.  How  I  kept  on  is  a  wonder ; 
but  I  squeezed  my  knees  in  very  tight,  and  shoved  my 
feet  very  hard  into  the  stirrups,  and  kept  stiff  hold  of 
the  scruff  of  Trumpeter's  neck,  and  looked  betwixt  his 
ears  as  well  as  ever  I  could,  and  trusted  to  luck:  for  I 
was  in  a  mortal  fright,  sure  enough,  as  many  a  better 
man  would  be  in  such  a  case,  let  alone  a  poor  hairdresser. 

As  for  the  hounds,  after  my  first  riding  in  among 
them,  I  tell  you  honestly,  I  never  saw  so  much  as  the 
tip  of  one  of  their  tails ;  nothing  in  this  world  did  I  see 
except  Trumpeter's  dun-coloured  mane,  and  that  I 
gripped  firm:  riding,  by  the  blessing  of  luck,  safe 
through  the  walking,  the  trotting,  the  galloping,  and 
never  so  much  as  getting  a  tumble. 

There  was  a  chap  at  Croydon  very  well  known  as 
the  "  Spicy  Dustman,"  who,  when  he  could  get  no  horse 
to  ride  to  the  hounds,  turned  regularly  out  on  his  don- 
key ;  and  on  this  occasion  made  one  of  us.  He  generally 
managed  to  keep  up  with  the  dogs  by  trotting  quietly 
though  the  cross-roads,  and  knowing  the  country  well. 
Well,  having  a  good  guess  where  the  hounds  would  find, 
and  the  line  that  sly  Reynolds  ( as  they  call  the  fox )  would 
take,  the  Spicy  Dustman  turned  his  animal  down  the 
lane  from  Squashtail  to  Cutshins  Common;  across 
which,  sure  enough,  came  the  whole  hunt.  There's  a 
small  hedge  and  a  remarkably  fine  ditch  here:  some  of 
the  leading  chaps  took  both,  in  gallant  style ;  others  went 
round  by  a  gate,  and  so  would  I,  only  I  couldn't;  for 
Trumpeter  would  have  the  hedge,  and  be  hanged  to  him, 
and  went  right  for  it. 


A  DAY  WITH  THE   SURREY  HOUNDS  533 

Hoop!  if  ever  you  did  try  a  leap!  Out  go  j^our  legs, 
out  fling  your  arms,  off  goes  your  hat;  and  the  next 
thing  you  feel— that  is,  I  did— is  a  most  tremendous 
thwack  across  the  chest,  and  my  feet  jerked  out  of  the 
stirrups:  me  left  in  the  branches  of  a  tree;  Trumpeter 
gone  clean  from  under  me,  and  walloping  and  flounder- 
ing in  the  ditch  underneath.  One  of  the  stirrup-leathers 
had  caught  in  a  stake,  and  the  horse  couldn't  get  away: 
and  neither  of  us,  I  thought,  ever  would  have  got  away: 
but  all  of  a  sudden,  who  should  come  up  the  lane  but 
the  Spicy  Dustman! 

"  Holloa!  "  says  I,  "  you  gent,  just  let  us  down  from 
this  here  tree! " 

"  Lor'!  "  says  he,  "  I'm  blest  if  I  didn't  take  you  for 
a  robin." 

"  Let's  down,"  says  I ;  but  he  was  all  the  time  em- 
ployed in  disengaging  Trumpeter,  whom  he  got  out  of 
the  ditch,  trembling  and  as  quiet  as  possible.  "  Let's 
down,"  says  I.  "  Presently,"  says  he ;  and  taking  oif  his 
coat,  he  begins  whistling  and  swishing  down  Trum- 
peter's sides  and  saddle ;  and  when  he  had  finished,  what 
do  you  think  the  rascal  did?— he  just  quietly  mounted 
on  Trumpeter's  back,  and  shouts  out,  "  Git  down  yourself, 
old  Bearsgrease;  you've  only  to  drop!  Z7Z  give  your 
'oss  a  hairing  arter  them  'ounds;  and  you— vy,  you  may 
ride  back  my  pony  to  Tuggeridgeweal ! "  And  with 
this,  I'm  blest  if  he  didn't  ride  away,  leaving  me  holding, 
as  for  the  dear  life,  and  expecting  every  minute  the 
branch  would  break. 

It  did  break  too,  and  down  I  came  into  the  slush ;  and 
when  I  got  out  of  it,  I  can  tell  you  I  didn't  look  much 
like  the  Venuses  or  the  Apollor  Belvidearis  what  I  used 
to  dress  and  titivate  up  for  my  shop  window  when  I  was 


534*  COX'S  DIARY 

in  the  halrdressing  line,  or  smell  quite  so  elegant  as  our 
rose-oil.     Faugh!  what  a  figure  I  was! 

I  had  nothing  for  it  but  to  mount  the  dustman's  don- 
key (which  was  very  quietly  cropping  grass  in  the 
hedge ) ,  and  to  make  mj"  way  home ;  and  after  a  w^ary, 
weary  journey,  I  arrived  at  my  own  gate. 

A  whole  party  was  assembled  there.  Tagrag,  who 
had  come  back;  their  Excellencies  Mace  and  Punter, 
who  were  on  a  visit ;  and  a  number  of  horses  walking  up 
and  down  before  the  whole  of  the  gentlemen  of  the  hunt, 
who  had  come  in  after  losing  their  fox!  "  Here's  Squire 
Coxe!"  shouted  the  grooms.  Out  rushed  the  servants, 
out  poured  the  gents  of  the  hunt,  and  on  trotted  poor 
me,  digging  into  the  donkey,  and  everybody  dying  with 
laughter  at  me. 

Just  as  I  got  up  to  the  door,  a  horse  came  galloping 
up,  and  passed  me;  a  man  jumped  down,  and  taking 
off  a  fantail  hat,  came  up,  very  gravely,  to  help  me 
down. 

"  Squire,"  says  he,  "  how  came  you  by  that  there  hani- 
mal?  Jist  git  down,  will  you,  and  give  it  to  its  howner?  " 

"  Rascal! "  says  I,  "  didn't  you  ride  off  on  my  horse?  " 

"  Was  there  ever  sich  ingratitude?  "  says  the  Spicy. 
"  I  found  this  year  'oss  in  a  pond,  I  saves  him  from 
drowning,  I  brings  him  back  to  his  master,  and  he  calls 
me  a  rascal! " 

The  grooms,  the  gents,  the  ladies  in  the  balcony,  my 
own  ser^^ants,  all  set  up  a  roar  at  this ;  and  so  would  I, 
only  I  was  so  deucedly  ashamed,  as  not  to  be  able  to 
laugh  just  then. 

And  so  my  first  day's  hunting  ended.  Tagrag  and 
the  rest  declared  I  showed  great  pluck,  and  w^anted  me 
to  try  again;  but  "  Xo,"  says  I,  "  I  have  been." 


THE   FINISHING  TOUCH  535 


APRIL-THE  FINISHING  TOUCH 

I  WAS  always  fond  of  billiards :  and,  in  former  days,  at 
Grogram's  in  Greek  Street,  where  a  few  jolly  lads  of 
my  acquaintance  used  to  meet  twice  a  week  for  a  game, 
and  a  snug  pipe  and  beer,  I  was  generally  voted  the 
first  man  of  the  club ;  and  could  take  five  from  John  the 
marker  himself.  I  had  a  genius,  in  fact,  for  the  game ; 
and  now  that  I  was  placed  in  that  station  of  life  where 
I  could  cultivate  my  talents,  I  gave  them  full-play,  and 
improved  amazingly.  I  do  say  that  I  think  myself  as 
good  a  hand  as  any  chap  in  England. 

The  Count  and  his  Excellency  Baron  von  Punter 
were,  I  can  tell  you,  astonished  by  the  smartness  of  my 
play :  the  first  two  or  three  rubbers  Punter  beat  me,  but 
when  I  came  to  know  his  game,  I  used  to  knock  him  all 
to  sticks ;  or,  at  least,  win  six  games  to  his  four :  and  such 
was  the  betting  upon  me;  his  Excellency  losing  large 
sums  to  the  Count,  who  knew  what  play  was,  and  used 
to  back  me.  I  did  not  play  except  for  shillings,  so  my 
skill  was  of  no  great  service  to  me. 

One  day  I  entered  the  billiard-room  where  these  three 
gentlemen  were  high  in  words.  "  The  thing  shall  not  be 
done,"  I  heard  Captain  Tagrag  say:  "  I  won't  stand  it." 

"  Vat,  begause  you  would  have  de  bird  all  to  yourzelf, 
hey?  "  said  the  Baron. 

"  You  sail  not  have  a  single  fezare  of  him,  begar,"  said 
the  Count:  "  ve  vill  blow  you,  M.  de  Taguerague;  parole 
d'honneur,  ve  vill." 

"  What's  all  this,  gents,"  says  I,  stepping  in,  "  about 
birds  and  feathers?  " 

"  Oh,"  says  Tagrag,  "  we  were  talking  about — about 


536  COX'S  DIARY 

— pigeon-shooting;  the  Count  here  says  he  will  blow  a 
bird  all  to  pieces  at  twenty  yards,  and  I  said  I  wouldn't 
stand  it,  because  it  was  regular  murder." 

"  Oh,  yase,  it  was  bidgeon-shooting,"  cries  the  Baron: 
"  and  I  know  no  better  short.  Have  you  been  bidgeon- 
shooting,  my  dear  Squire?    De  fon  is  gabidal." 

"  No  doubt,"  says  I,  "  for  the  shooters,  but  mighty 
bad  sport  for  the  pigeon."  And  this  joke  set  them  all 
a-laughing  ready  to  die.  I  didn't  know  then  what  a  good 
joke  it  was,  neither;  but  I  gave  Master  Baron,  that  day, 
a  precious  good  beating,  and  walked  off  with  no  less  than 
fifteen  shillings  of  his  money. 

As  a  sporting  man,  and  a  man  of  fashion,  I  need  not 
say  that  I  took  in  the  Flare-up  regularly ;  ay,  and  wrote 
one  or  two  trifles  in  that  celebrated  publication  (one  of 
my  papers,  which  Tagrag  subscribed  for  me,  Philo-pes- 
titiseamicus,  on  the  proper  sauce  for  teal  and  widgeon — 
and  the  other,  signed  Scru-tatos,  on  the  best  means  of 
cultivating  the  kidney  species  of  that  vegetable — made 
no  small  noise  at  the  time,  and  got  me  in  the  paper  a 
compliment  from  the  editor).  I  was  a  constant  reader 
of  the  Notices  to  Correspondents,  and,  my  early  educa- 
tion having  been  rayther  neglected,  (for  I  was  taken 
from  my  studies  and  set,  as  is  the  custom  in  our  trade, 
to  practise  on  a  sheep's  head  at  the  tender  age  of  nine 
years,  before  I  was  allowed  to  venture  on  the  humane 
countenance,)  — I  say,  being  thus  curtailed  and  cut 
off  in  my  classical  learning,  I  must  confess  I  managed 
to  pick  up  a  pretty  smattering  of  genteel  information 
from  that  treasury  of  all  sorts  of  knowledge;  at  least 
sufficient  to  make  me  a  match  in  learning  for  all  the 
noblemen  and  gentlemen  who  came  to  our  house. 
Well,  on  looking  over  the  Flare-up  notices  to  correspon- 


THE  FINISHING  TOUCH  537 

dents,  I  read,  one  day  last  April,  among  the  notices,  as 
follows:  — 

Automodon.'  We  do  not  know  the  precise  age  of 
Mr.  Baker  of  Covent  Garden  Theatre;  nor  are  we  aware 
if  that  celebrated  son  of  Thespis  is  a  married  man. 

Ducks  and  Green-peas  '  is  informed,  that  when  A 
plays  his  rook  to  B's  second  Knight's  square,  and  B, 
moving  two  squares  with  his  Queen's  pawn,  gives  check 
to  his  adversary's  Queen,  there  is  no  reason  w-hy  B's 
Queen  should  not  take  A's  pawn,  if  B  be  so  inclined. 

"  '  F.  L.  S.'  We  have  repeatedly  answered  the  ques- 
tion about  Madame  Vestris :  her  maiden  name  was  Bar- 
tolozzi,  and  she  married  the  son  of  Charles  Mathew^s,  the 
celebrated  comedian. 

Fair  Play.'  The  best  amateur  billiard  and  ecarte 
player  in  England,  is  Coxe  Tuggeridge  Coxe,  Esq.,  of 
Portland  Place,  and  Tuggeridgeville :  Jonathan,  who 
knows  his  play,  can  only  give  him  two  in  a  game  of  a 
hundred;  and,  at  the  cards,  no  man  is  his  superior. 
Verbum  sap. 

"  '  Scipio  Americanus  '  is  a  blockhead." 
I  read  this  out  to  the  Count  and  Tagrag,  and  bot^i  of 
them  wondered  how  the  Editor  of  that  tremendous 
Flare-up  should  get  such  information;  and  both  agreed 
that  the  Baron,  who  still  piqued  himself  absurdly  on  his 
play,  would  be  vastly  annoyed  by  seeing  me  preferred 
thus  to  himself.  We  read  him  the  paragraph,  and  pre- 
ciously angry  he  was.  "  Id  is,"  he  cried,  "  the  tables  " 
(or  "  de  dabels''  as  he  called  them) , — "  de  horrid  dabels; 
gom  viz  me  to  London,  and  dry  a  slate-table,  and  I  vill 
beat  you."  We  all  roared  at  this;  and  the  end  of  the  dis- 
pute was,  that,  just  to  satisfy  the  fellow,  I  agreed  to  play 
his  Excellency  at  slate-tables,  or  any  tables  he  chose. 


538  COX'S  DIARY 

"  Gut,"  says  he,  "  gut;  I  lif,  you  know,  at  Abednego's, 
in  de  Quadrant;  his  dabels  is  goot;  ve  vill  blay  dere,  if 
you  vill."  And  I  said  I  would:  and  it  was  agreed  that, 
one  Saturday  night,  when  Jemmy  was  at  the  Opera,  we 
should  go  to  the  Baron's  rooms,  and  give  him  a  chance. 

We  went,  and  the  little  Baron  had  as  fine  a  supper  as 
ever  I  saw :  lots  of  Champang  ( and  I  didn't  mind  drink- 
ing it),  and  plenty  of  laughing  and  fun.  Afterwards, 
down  we  went  to  billiards.  "  Is  dish  Misther  Coxsh,  de 
shelebrated  player?  "  says  Mr.  Abednego,  who  was  in 
the  room,  with  one  or  two  gentlemen  of  his  own  persua- 
sion, and  several  foreign  noblemen,  dirty,  snuffy,  and 
hairy,  as  them  foreigners  are.  "  Is  dish  Misther  Coxsh? 
blesh  my  hart,  it  is  a  honer  to  see  you;  I  have  heard  so 
much  of  your  play." 

"  Come,  come,"  says  I,  "  sir  "—for  I'm  pretty  wide 
awake— "  none  of  your  gammon;  you're  not  going  to 
hook  7Re" 

"  No,  begar,  dis  fish  you  not  catch,"  says  Count 
Mace. 

"  Dat  is  gut!— haw!  haw!"  snorted  the  Baron. 
"  Hook  him !  Lieber  Himmel,  you  might  dry  and  hook 
me  as  well.    Haw !  haw !  " 

Well,  we  went  to  play.  "  Five  to  four  on  Coxe," 
screams  out  the  Count.—"  Done  and  done,"  says  another 
nobleman.  "  Ponays,"  says  the  Count.—"  Done,"  says 
the  nobleman.  "  I  vill  take  your  six  crowns  to  four," 
says  the  Baron. — "  Done,"  says  I.  And,  in  the  twink- 
ling of  an  eye,  I  beat  him ;  once  making  thirteen  off  the 
balls  without  stopping. 

We  had  some  more  wine  after  this;  and  if  you  could 
have  seen  the  long  faces  of  the  other  noblemen,  as  they 
pulled  out  their  pencils   and  wrote   I.O.U.'s   for  the 


THE  FINISHING   TOUCH  539 

Count!    "  Va  toujours,  mon  cher,"  says  he  to  me,  "  you 
have  von  for  me  three  hundred  pounds." 

"  I'll  blay  you  guineas  dis  time,"  says  the  Baron. 
"  Zeven  to  four  you  must  give  me  though."  And  so  I 
did:  and  in  ten  minutes  that  game  was  won,  and  the 
Baron  handed  over  his  pounds.  "  Two  hundred  and 
sixty  more,  my  dear,  dear  Coxe,"  says  the  Count;  "  you 
are  mon  ange  gardien !  "  "  Wot  a  flat  Misther  Coxsh  is, 
not  to  back  his  luck,"  I  heard  Abednego  whisper  to  one 
of  the  foreign  noblemen. 

"  I'll  take  your  seven  to  four,  in  tens,"  said  I  to  the 
Baron.  "  Give  me  three,"  says  he,  "  and  done."  I  gave 
him  three,  and  lost  the  game  by  one.  "  Dobbel,  or  quits," 
says  he.  "  Go  it,"  says  I,  up  to  my  mettle:  "  Sam  Coxe 
never  says  no;  "—and  to  it  we  went.  I  went  in,  and 
scored  eighteen  to  his  five.  "Holy  IMoshesh!"  says 
Abednego,  "  dat  little  Coxsh  is  a  vonder!  who'll  take 
odds? " 

"  I'll  give  twenty  to  one,"  says  I,  "  in  guineas." 

"  Ponays;  yase,  done,"  screams  out  the  Count. 

''  Bonies,  done,"  roars  out  the  Baron:  and,  before  I 
could  speak,  went  in,  and— would  you  believe  it?— in 
two  minutes  he  somehow  made  the  game ! 

******* 

Oh,  what  a  figure  I  cut  when  my  dear  Jemmy  heard 
of  this  afterwards !  In  vain  I  swore  it  was  guineas :  the 
Count  and  the  Baron  swore  to  ponies;  and  when  I  re- 
fused, they  both  said  their  honour  was  concerned,  and 
they  must  have  my  life,  or  their  money.  So  when  the 
Count  showed  me  actually  that,  in  spite  of  this  bet 
(which  had  been  too  good  to  resist)  won  from  me,  he  had 
been  a  very  heavy  loser  by  the  niglit;  and  ])r()uglit  me 
the  word  of  honour  of  Abednego,  his  Jewisli  friend,  and 


540  COX'S  DIARY 

the  foreign  noblemen,  that  ponies  had  been  betted;— 
why,  I  paid  them  one  thousand  pounds  sterhng  of  good 
and  lawful  money.— But  I've  not  played  for  money 
since :  no,  no ;  catch  me  at  that  again  if  you  can. 


MAY-A  NEW  DROP-SCENE  AT  THE  OPERA 

No  lady  is  a  lady  without  having  a  box  at  the  Opera :  so 
my  Jemmy,  who  knew  as  much  about  music,— bless  her! 
as  I  do  about  Sanscrit,  algebra,  or  any  other  foreign  lan- 
guage, took  a  prime  box  on  the  second  tier.  It  was  what 
they  called  a  double  box;  it  really  could  hold  two,  that 
is,  very  comfortably;  and  we  got  it  a  great  bargain— for 
five  hundred  a  year!  Here,  Tuesdays  and  Saturdays, 
we  used  regularly  to  take  our  places.  Jemmy  and  Jemi- 
marann  sitting  in  front ;  me,  behind :  but  as  my  dear  wife 
used  to  wear  a  large  f antail  gauze  hat  with  ostrich  feath- 
ers, birds-of -paradise,  artificial  flowers,  and  tags  of  mus- 
hn  or  satin,  scattered  all  over  it,  I'm  blest  if  she  didn't  fill 
the  whole  of  the  front  of  the  box;  and  it  was  only  by 
jumping  and  dodging,  three  or  four  times  in  the  course 
of  the  night,  that  I  could  manage  to  get  a  sight  of  the 
actors.  By  kneeling  down,  and  looking  steady  under 
my  darhng  Jemmy's  sleeve,  I  did  contrive,  every  now 
and  then,  to  have  a  peep  of  Senior  Lablash's  boots,  in  the 
"  Puritanny,"  and  once  actually  saw  Madame  Greasi's 
crown  and  head-dress  in  "Annybalony." 

What  a  place  that  Opera  is,  to  be  sure !  and  what  en- 
joyments us  aristocracy  used  to  have !  Just  as  you  have 
swallowed  down  your  three  courses  (three  curses  I  used 
to  call  them;— for  so,  indeed,  they  are,  causing  a  deal  of 


A  NEW  DROP-SCENE  AT  THE  OPERA  541 

heartburns,  headaches,  doctor's  bills,  pills,  want  of  sleep, 
and  such  like)  —just,  I  say,  as  you  get  down  your  three 
courses,  which  I  defy  any  man  to  enjoy  properly  unless 
he  has  two  hours  of  drink  and  quiet  afterwards,  up  comes 
the  carriage,  in  bursts  my  Jemmy,  as  fine  as  a  duchess, 
and  scented  like  our  shop.  "  Come,  my  dear,"  says  she, 
"  it's  '  Normy  '  to-night  "  (or  "Annybalony,"  or  the 
*'  Nosey  di  Figaro,"  or  the  "  Gazzylarder,"  as  the  case 
may  be).  "  Mr.  Coster  strikes  off  punctually  at  eight, 
and  you  know  it's  the  fashion  to  be  always  present  at  the 
very  first  bar  of  the  aperture."  And  so  off  we  are 
obliged  to  budge,  to  be  miserable  for  five  hours,  and  to 
have  a  headache  for  the  next  twelve,  and  all  because  it's 
the  fashion! 

After  the  aperture,  as  they  call  it,  comes  the  opera, 
which,  as  I  am  given  to  understand,  is  the  Italian  for 
singing.  Why  they  should  sing  in  Italian,  I  can't  con- 
ceive ;  or  why  they  should  do  nothing  but  sing.  Bless  us ! 
how  I  used  to  long  for  the  wooden  magpie  in  the 
"  Gazzylarder  "  to  fly  up  to  the  top  of  the  church-steeple, 
with  the  silver  spoons,  and  see  the  chaps  with  the  pitch- 
forks come  in  and  carry  off  that  wicked  Don  June.  Not 
that  I  don't  admire  Lablash,  and  Rubini,  and  his  brother, 
Tomrubini:  him  who  has  that  fine  bass  voice,  I  mean, 
and  acts  the  Corporal  in  the  first  piece,  and  Don  June  in 
the  second ;  but  three  hours  is  a  little  too  much,  for  you 
can't  sleep  on  those  little  rickety  seats  in  the  })oxes. 

The  opera  is  bad  enough ;  but  what  is  that  to  the  bally? 
You  should  have  seen  my  Jemmy  the  first  night  when 
she  stopped  to  see  it ;  and  when  Madamsalls  Fanny  and 
Theresa  Hustler  came  forward,  along  M'ith  a  gentleman, 
to  dance,  you  should  have  seen  how  Jemmy  stared,  and 
our  girl  blushed,  when  Madamsall  Fanny,  coming  for- 


542  COX'S  DIARY 

ward,  stood  on  the  tips  of  only  five  of  her  toes,  and  rais- 
ing up  the  other  five,  and  the  foot  belonging  to  them,  al- 
most to  her  shoulder,  twirled  round,  and  round,  and 
round,  like  a  teetotum,  for  a  couple  of  minutes  or  more ; 
and  as  she  settled  down,  at  last,  on  both  feet,  in  a  natural 
decent  posture,  you  should  have  heard  how  the  house 
roared  with  applause,  the  boxes  clapping  with  all  their 
might,  and  waving  their  handkerchiefs ;  the  pit  shouting, 
"Bravo!"  Some  people,  who,  I  suppose,  were  rather 
angry  at  such  an  exhibition,  threw  bunches  of  flowers  at 
her ;  and  what  do  you  think  she  did  ?  Why,  hang  me,  if 
she  did  not  come  forward,  as  though  nothing  had  hap- 
pened, gather  up  the  things  they  had  thrown  at  her, 
smile,  press  them  to  her  heart,  and  begin  whirling  round 
again,  faster  than  ever.  Talk  about  coolness,  I  never 
saw  such  in  all  my  born  days. 

"  Nasty  thing!  "  says  Jemmy,  starting  up  in  a  fury; 
"  if  women  will  act  so,  it  serves  them  right  to  be  treated 
so." 

"  Oh,  yes!  she  acts  beautifully,"  says  our  friend  his 
Excellency,  who,  along  with  Baron  von  Punter  and 
Tagrag,  used  very  seldom  to  miss  coming  to  our  box. 

"  She  may  act  very  beautifully,  Munseer,  but  she 
don't  dress  so;  and  I  am  very  glad  they  threw  that 
orange-peel  and  all  those  things  at  her,  and  that  the  peo- 
ple waved  to  her  to  get  off." 

Here  his  Excellency,  and  the  Baron  and  Tag,  set  up  a 
roar  of  laughter. 

"  My  dear  Mrs.  Coxe,"  says  Tag,  "  those  are  the  most 
famous  dancers  in  the  world ;  and  we  throw  myrtle,  gera- 
niums, and  lilies  and  roses  at  them,  in  token  of  our  im- 
mense admiration !  " 

"  Well,  I  never!  "  said  my  wife;  and  poor  Jemimar- 


A  NEW  DROP-SCENE  AT  THE  OPERA  543 

ann  slunk  behind  the  curtain,  and  looked  as  red  as  it 
almost.  After  the  one  had  done,  the  next  begun;  but 
when,  all  of  a  sudden,  a  somebody  came  skipping  and 
bounding  in,  like  an  Indian-rubber  ball,  flinging  itself 
up,  at  least  six  feet  from  the  stage,  and  there  shaking 
about  its  legs  like  mad,  we  were  more  astonished  than 
ever ! 

"  That's  Anatole,"  saj^s  one  of  the  gentlemen. 

"  Anna  who? "  says  my  wife;  and  she  might  well  be 
mistaken:  for  this  person  had  a  hat  and  feathers,  a  bare 
neck  and  arms,  great  black  ringlets,  and  a  little  calico 
frock,  which  came  down  to  the  knees. 

"  Anatole.  You  would  not  think  he  was  sixty-three 
years  old,  he's  as  active  as  a  man  of  twenty." 

"  He! "  shrieked  out  my  wife;  "  what,  is  that  there  a 
man?  For  shame!  Munseer.  Jemimarann,  dear,  get 
your  cloak,  and  come  along;  and  I'll  thank  you,  my  dear, 
to  call  our  people,  and  let  us  go  home." 

You  wouldn't  think,  after  this,  that  my  Jemmy,  who 
had  shown  such  a  horror  at  the  bally,  as  they  call  it, 
should  ever  grow  accustomed  to  it ;  but  she  liked  to  hear 
her  name  shouted  out  in  the  crush-room,  and  so  would 
stop  till  the  end  of  everything;  and,  law  bless  you!  in 
three  weeks  from  that  time,  she  could  look  at  the  ballet 
as  she  would  at  a  dancing-dog  in  the  streets,  and  would 
bring  her  double-barrelled  opera-glass  up  to  her  eyes  as 
coolly  as  if  she  had  been  a  born  duchess.  As  for  me,  I 
did  at  Rome  as  Rome  does;  and  precious  fun  it  used  to 
be,  sometimes. 

My  friend  the  Baron  insisted  one  night  on  my  going 
behind  the  scenes;  where,  being  a  subscriber,  he  said  I 
had  what  they  call  my  ontray.  Beliind,  then,  I  went; 
and  such  a  place  you  never  saw  nor  heard  of !  Fancy  lots 


5U  COX'S  DIARY 

of  young  and  old  gents  of  the  fashion  crowding  round 
and  staring  at  the  actresses  practising  their  steps.  Fancy 
yellow  snuffy  foreigners,  chattering  always,  and  smell- 
ing fearfully  of  tobacco.  Fancy  scores  of  Jews,  with 
hooked-noses  and  black  muzzles,  covered  with  rings, 
chains,  sham  diamonds,  and  gold  waistcoats.  Fancy  old 
men  dressed  in  old  nightgowns,  with  knock-knees,  and 
dirty  flesh-coloured  cotton  stockings,  and  dabs  of  brick- 
dust  on  their  wrinkled  old  chops,  and  tow-wigs  (such 
wigs!)  for  the  bald  ones,  and  great  tin  spears  in  their 
hands  mayhap,  or  else  shepherds'  crooks,  and  fusty  gar- 
lands of  flowers  made  of  red  and  green  baize.  Fancy 
troops  of  girls  giggling,  chattering,  pushing  to  and  fro, 
amidst  old  black  canvas,  Gothic  halls,  thrones,  paste- 
board Cupids,  dragons,  and  such  like.  Such  dirt,  dark- 
ness, crowd,  confusion  and  gabble  of  all  conceivable 
languages  was  never  known ! 

If  you  could  but  have  seen  Munseer  Anatole  I  Instead 
of  looking  twenty  he  looked  a  thousand.  The  old  man's 
wig  was  off",  and  a  barber  was  giving  it  a  touch  with  the 
tongs;  Munseer  was  taking  snufF  himself,  and  a  boy 
was  standing  by  with  a  pint  of  beer  from  the  public- 
house  at  the  corner  of  Charles  Street. 

I  met  with  a  little  accident  during  the  three-quarters 
of  an  hour  which  they  allow  for  the  entertainment  of  us 
men  of  fashion  on  the  stage,  before  the  curtain  draws  up 
for  the  bally,  while  the  ladies  in  the  boxes  are  gaping, 
and  the  people  in  the  pit  are  drumming  with  their  feet 
and  canes  in  the  rudest  manner  possible,  as  though  they 
couldn't  wait. 

Just  at  the  moment  before  the  little  bell  rings  and  the 
curtain  flies  up,  and  we  scuffle  off  to  the  sides  (for  we 
always  stay  till  the  very  last  moment),  I  was  in  the 


STRIKING  A  BALANCE  545 

middle  of  the  stage,  making  myself  very  affable  to  the 
fair  figgerantys  which  was  spinning  and  twirling  about 
me,  and  asking  them  if  they  wasn't  cold,  and  such  like 
politeness,  in  the  most  condescending  way  possible,  when 
a  bolt  was  suddenly  withdrawn,  and  down  I  popped, 
through  a  trap  in  the  stage,  into  the  place  below.  Luck- 
ily, I  was  stopped  by  a  piece  of  machinery,  consisting  of 
a  heap  of  green  blankets  and  a  young  lady  coming  up 
as  Venus  rising  from  the  sea.  If  I  had  not  fallen  so  soft, 
I  don't  know  what  might  have  been  the  consequence  of 
the  collusion.  I  never  told  Mrs.  Coxe,  for  she  can't  bear 
to  hear  of  my  paying  the  least  attention  to  the  fair  sex. 


JUNE-STRIKING  A  BALANCE 

Next  door  to  us,  in  Portland  Place,  lived  the  Right 
Honourable  the  Earl  of  Kilblazes,  of  Kilmacrasy  Castle, 
county  Kildare,  and  his  mother,  the  Dowager  Countess. 
Lady  Kilblazes  had  a  daughter.  Lady  Juliana  jNIatilda 
INIac  Turk,  of  the  exact  age  of  our  dear  Jemimarann; 
and  a  son,  the  Honourable  Arthur  Wellington  Anglesea 
Blucher  Bulow  JNIac  Turk,  only  ten  months  older  than 
our  boy  Tug. 

My  darling  Jemmy  is  a  woman  of  spirit,  and,  as  be- 
come her  station,  made  every  possible  attempt  to  become 
acquainted  with  the  Dowager  Countess  of  Kilblazes, 
which  her  ladyship  (because,  forsooth,  she  was  the 
daughter  of  the  INIinister,  and  Prince  of  Wales's  great 
friend,  the  Earl  of  Portansherry)  thought  fit  to  reject. 
I  don't  wonder  at  my  Jemmy  growing  so  angry  with 
her,  and  determining,  in  every  way,  to  put  her  ladyship 
down.    The  Kilblazes'  estate  is  not  so  large  as  the  Tug- 


5m  COX'S  DIARY 

geridge  property  by  two  thousand  a  year  at  least;  and 
so  my  wife,  when  our  neighbours  kept  only  two  footmen, 
was  quite  authorised  in  having  three;  and  she  made  it  a 
point,  as  soon  as  ever  the  Kilblazes'  carriage-and-pair 
came  round,  to  have  out  her  own  carriage-and-four. 

Well,  our  box  was  next  to  theirs  at  the  Opera;  only 
twice  as  big.  Whatever  masters  went  to  Lady  Juliana, 
came  to  my  Jemimarann ;  and  what  do  you  think  Jemmy 
did?  she  got  her  celebrated  governess,  Madame  de  Flic- 
flac,  away  from  the  Countess,  by  offering  a  double  salary. 
It  was  quite  a  treasure,  they  said,  to  have  Madame  Flic- 
flac:  she  had  been  (to  support  her  father,  the  Count, 
when  he  emigrated)  a  French  dancer  at  the  Italian 
Opera.  French  dancing,  and  Italian,  therefore,  we  had 
at  once,  and  in  the  best  style :  it  is  astonishing  how  quick 
and  well  she  used  to  speak — the  French  especially. 

Master  Arthur  Mac  Turk  was  at  the  famous  school 
of  the  Reverend  Clement  Coddler,  along  with  a  hundred 
and  ten  other  young  fashionables,  from  the  age  of  three 
to  fifteen;  and  to  this  establishment  Jemmy  sent  our 
Tug,  adding  forty  guineas  to  the  hundred  and  twenty 
paid  every  year  for  the  boarders.  I  think  I  found  out 
the  dear  soul's  reason;  for,  one  day,  speaking  about  the 
school  to  a  mutual  acquaintance  of  ours  and  the  Kil- 
blazes, she  whispered  to  him  that  "  she  never  would  have 
thought  of  sending  her  darling  boy  at  the  rate  which  her 
next-door  neighbours  paid ;  their  lad,  she  was  sure,  must 
be  starved :  however,  poor  people,  they  did  the  best  they 
could  on  their  income!  " 

Coddler's,  in  fact,  was  the  tip-top  school  near  London : 
he  had  been  tutor  to  the  Duke  of  Buckminster,  who  had 
set  him  up  in  the  school,  and,  as  I  tell  you,  all  the  peerage 
and  respectable  commoners  came  to  it.    You  read  in  the 


STRIKING  A  BALANCE  547 

bill,  (the  snopsis,  I  think,  Coddler  called  it,)  after  the 
account  of  the  charges  for  board,  masters,  extras,  &c.— 
"  Every  young  nobleman  (or  gentleman)  is  expected 
to  bring  a  knife,  fork,  spoon,  and  goblet  of  silver  (to 
prevent  breakage),  which  will  not  be  returned;  a  dress- 
ing-gown and  slippers;  toilet-box,  pomatum,  curling- 
irons,  &c.  &c.  The  pupil  must  on  no  account  be  allowed 
to  have  more  than  ten  guineas  of  pocket-money,  unless 
his  parents  particularly  desire  it,  or  he  be  above  fifteen 
years  of  age.  Wine  will  be  an  extra  charge;  as  are 
warm,  vapour,  and  douche  baths.  Carriage  exercise  will 
be  provided  at  the  rate  of  fifteen  guineas  per  quarter. 
It  is  earnestly  requested  that  no  young  nobleman  (or 
gentleman)  be  allowed  to  smoke.  In  a  place  devoted  to 
the  cultivation  of  polite  literature,  such  an  ignoble  en- 
joyment were  profane. 

"  Clement  Coddler,  M.A., 

"  Chaplain  and  late  tutor  to  his  Grace  the 
"  Duke  of  Buckminster. 
"  Mount  Parnassus,  Richmond,  Surrey." 

To  this  establishment  our  Tug  was  sent.  "  Recollect, 
my  dear,"  said  his  mamma,  "  that  you  are  a  Tuggeridge 
by  birth,  and  that  I  expect  you  to  beat  all  the  boys  in  the 
school;  especially  that  Wellington  Mac  Turk,  who, 
though  he  is  a  lord's  son,  is  nothing  to  you,  who  are  the 
heir  of  Tuggeridgeville." 

Tug  was  a  smart  young  fellow  enough,  and  could  cut 
and  curl  as  well  as  any  young  chap  of  his  age:  he  was 
not  a  bad  hand  at  a  wig  either,  and  could  sliave,  too,  very 
prettily ;  but  that  was  in  the  old  time,  wlien  we  were  not 
great  people:  when  he  came  to  be  a  gentleman,  he  had 
to  learn  Latin  and  Greek,  and  had  a  deal  of  lost  time  to 
make  up  for,  on  going  to  school. 


548  COX'S  DIARY 

However,  we  had  no  fear ;  for  the  Reverend  Mr.  Cod- 
dler  used  to  send  monthly  accounts  of  his  pupil's  prog- 
ress, and  if  Tug  was  not  a  wonder  of  the  world,  I  don't 
know  who  was.    It  was 

General    behaviour excellent. 

English very    good. 

French        tres    bien. 

Latin optime. 

And  so  on:— he  possessed  all  the  virtues,  and  wrote  to  us 
every  month  for  money.  My  dear  Jemmy  and  I  deter- 
mined to  go  and  see  him,  after  he  had  been  at  school  a 
quarter ;  we  went,  and  were  shoA\Ti  by  Mr.  Coddler,  one 
of  the  meekest,  smilingest  little  men  I  ever  saw,  into  the 
bed-rooms  and  eating-rooms  (the  dromitaries  and  re- 
fractories he  called  them) ,  which  were  all  as  comfortable 
as  comfortable  might  be.  "  It  is  a  hoHday  to-day,"  said 
Mr.  Coddler;  and  a  holiday  it  seemed  to  be.  In  the 
dining-room  were  half-a-dozen  young  gentlemen  play- 
ing at  cards  ("All  tip-top  nobility,"  observed  Mr.  Cod- 
dler) ;— in  the  bed-rooms  there  was  only  one  gent:  he  was 
lying  on  his  bed,  reading  novels  and  smoking  cigars. 
"Extraordinary  genius!"  whispered  Coddler.  "Hon- 
ourable Tom  Fitz-Warter,  cousin  of  Lord  Byron's; 
smokes  all  day ;  and  has  written  the  sweetest  poems  you 
can  imagine.  Genius,  my  dear  madam,  you  know- 
genius  must  have  its  way."  "  Well,  upon  my  word," 
says  Jemmy,  "  if  that's  genius,  I  had  rather  that  Master 
Tuggeridge  Coxe  Tuggeridge  remained  a  dull  fellow." 

"  Impossible,  my  dear  madam,"  said  Coddler.  "  Mr. 
Tuggeridge  Coxe  couldnt  be  stupid  if  he  tried." 

Just  then  up  comes  Lord  Claude  Lollypop,  third  son 


STRIKING  A  BALANCE  549 

of  the  ]\Iarquis  of  Allycompane.  We  were  introduced 
instantly:  "  Lord  Claude  Lollypop,  ]Mr.  and  Mrs.  Coxe." 
The  little  lord  wagged  his  head,  my  wife  bowed  very  low, 
and  so  did  ^Ir.  Coddler;  who,  as  he  saw  my  lord  making 
for  the  playground,  begged  him  to  show  us  the  way. — 
"  Come  along,"  says  my  lord;  and  as  he  walked  before  us, 
whistling,  we  had  leisure  to  remark  the  beautiful  holes  in 
his  jacket,  and  elsewhere. 

About  twenty  3'oung  noblemen  (and  gentlemen)  were 
gathered  round  a  pastrycook's  shop  at  the  end  of  the 
green.  "  That's  the  grub-shop,"  said  mj^  lord,  "  where 
we  young  gentlemen  wot  has  money  buys  our  wittles, 
and  them  young  gentlemen  wot  has  none,  goes  tick." 

Then  we  passed  a  poor  red-haired  usher  sitting  on  a 
bench  alone.  "  That's  jNIr.  Hicks,  the  Husher,  ma'am," 
says  my  lord.  "  We  keep  him,  for  he's  very  useful  to 
throw  stones  at,  and  he  keeps  the  chaps'  coats  when 
there's  a  fight,  or  a  game  at  cricket. — Well,  Hicks, 
how's  your  mother?  what's  the  row  now?  "  "  I  believe, 
my  lord,"  said  the  usher,  very  meekly,  "  there  is  a  pu- 
gilistic encounter  somewhere  on  the  premises— the  Hon- 
ourable ]Mr.  Mac—" 

"Oh!  come  along,"  said  Lord  Lollypop,  "come 
along:  this  way,  ma'am!  Go  it,  ye  cripples!  "  And  my 
lord  pulled  my  dear  Jemmy's  gown  in  the  kindest  and 
most  familiar  way,  she  trotting  on  after  him,  mightily 
pleased  to  be  so  taken  notice  of,  and  I  after  her.  A 
little  boy  went  running  across  the  green.  "  Who  is  it, 
Petitoes?  "  screams  my  lord.  "  Turk  and  the  barber," 
pipes  Petitoes,  and  runs  to  the  pastrycook's  like  mad. 
"  Turk  and  the  ba— ,"  laughs  out  my  lord,  looking  at 
us.  "Hurra!  this  way,  ma'am!"  And  turning  round 
a  corner,  he  opened  a  door  into  a  court-yard,  where  a 


550  COX'S  DIARY 

number  of  boys  were  collected,  and  a  great  noise  of 
shrill  voices  might  be  heard.  "  Go  it,  Turk!  "  says  one. 
"  Go  it,  barber!  "  says  another.  "  Punch  hith  life  out!  " 
roars  another,  whose  voice  was  just  cracked,  and  his 
clothes  half  a  yard  too  short  for  him! 

Fancy  our  horror  when,  on  the  crowd  making  way,  we 
saw  Tug  pummelling  away  at  the  Honourable  Master 
Mac  Turk!  My  dear  Jemmy,  who  don't  understand 
such  things,  pounced  upon  the  two  at  once,  and,  with 
one  hand  tearing  away  Tug,  sent  him  spinning  back 
into  the  arms  of  his  seconds,  while,  with  the  other,  she 
clawed  hold  of  Master  Mac  Turk's  red  hair,  and,  as 
soon  as  she  got  her  second  hand  free,  banged  it  about 
his  face  and  ears  like  a  good  one. 

"  You  nasty — wicked— quarrelsome — aristocratic  " 
(each  word  was  a  bang) —"  aristocratic— oh!  oh!  oh!" 
—Here  the  words  stopped;  for  what  with  the  agitation, 
maternal  solicitude,  and  a  dreadful  kick  on  the  shins 
which,  I  am  ashamed  to  say,  Master  Mac  Turk  adminis- 
tered, my  dear  Jemmy  could  bear  it  no  longer,  and  sunk 
fainting  away  in  my  arms. 


JULY— DOWN    AT   BEULAH 

Although  there  was  a  regular  cut  between  the  next- 
door  people  and  us,  yet  Tug  and  the  Honourable  Mas- 
ter Mac  Turk  kept  up  their  acquaintance  over  the 
back-garden  wall,  and  in  the  stables,  where  they  were 
fighting,  making  friends,  and  playing  tricks  from  morn- 
ing to  night,  during  the  holidays.  Indeed,  it  was  from 
young  Mac  that  we  first  heard  of  Madame  de  Flicflac, 


DOWN  AT   BEULAH  551 

of  whom  my  Jemmy  robbed  Lady  Kilblazes,  as  I  before 
have  related.  When  our  friend  the  Baron  first  saw 
Madame,  a  very  tender  greeting  passed  between  them; 
for  they  had,  as  it  appeared,  been  old  friends  abroad. 
"  Sapristie,"  said  the  Baron,  in  his  lingo,  "  que  fais-tu 
ici,  Amenaide?"  "  Et  toi,  mon  pauvre  Chicot,"  says 
she,  "  est-ce  qu'on  t'a  mis  a  la  retraite?  II  parait  que  tu 
n'est  plus  General  chez  Franco — "  "Chut!"  says  the 
Baron,  putting  his  finger  to  his  lips. 

"  What  are  they  saying,  my  dear?  "  says  my  wife 
to  Jemimarann,  who  had  a  pretty  knowledge  of  the 
language  by  this  time. 

"  I  don't  know  what  'Sapristie'  means,  mamma;  but 
the  Baron  asked  Madame  what  she  was  doing  here?  and 
Madame  said,  '  And  you,  Chicot,  you  are  no  more  a 
General  at  Franco.' — Have  I  not  translated  rightly, 
Madame?  " 

"  Oui,  mon  chou,  mon  ange.  Yase,  my  angel,  my 
cabbage,  quite  right.  Figure  yourself,  I  have  known 
my  dear  Chicot  dis  twenty  years." 

"Chicot  is  my  name  of  baptism,"  says  the  Baron; 
*'  Baron  Chicot  de  Punter  is  my  name." 

"  And  being  a  General  at  Franco,"  says  Jemmy, 
"  means,  I  suppose,  being  a  French  General?  " 

"  Yes,  I  vas,"  said  he,  "  General  Baron  de  Punter— 
n'est  'a  pas,  Amenaide?  " 

"  Oh,  yes!  "  said  Madame  Flicflac,  and  laughed;  and 
I  and  Jemmy  laughed  out  of  politeness:  and  a  pretty 
laughing  matter  it  was,  as  you  shall  hear. 

About  this  time  my  Jemmy  became  one  of  the  Lady- 
Patronesses  of  that  admirable  institution,  "  The  Wash- 
erwoman's-Orphans'  Home;"  Lady  de  Sudley  was  the 
great  projector  of  it;  and  the  manager  and  chaplain. 


552  COX'S  DIARY 

the  excellent  and  reverend  Sidney  Slopper.  His  salary, 
as  chaplain,  and  that  of  Doctor  Leitch,  the  physician 
(both  cousins  of  her  ladyship's),  drew  away  five  hun- 
dred pounds  from  the  six  subscribed  to  the  Charity :  and 
Lady  de  Sudley  thought  a  fete  at  Beulah  Spa,  with  the 
aid  of  some  of  the  foreign  princes  who  were  in  town 
last  year,  might  bring  a  little  more  money  into  its  treas- 
ury. A  tender  appeal  was  accordingly  drawn  up,  and 
published  in  all  the  papers:— 

" APPEAL 

"  BRITISH    WASHERWOMAn's-ORPHANs'    HOME 

"  The  *  Washerwoman's-Orphans'  Home  '  has  now 
been  established  seven  years:  and  the  good  which  it  has 
effected  is,  it  may  be  confidently  stated,  incalculable. 
Ninety -eight  orphan  children  of  Washerwomen  have 
been  lodged  within  its  walls.  One  hundred  and  two 
British  Washerwomen  have  been  relieved  when  in  the 
last  state  of  decay.  One  hundred  and  ninety-eight 
THOUSAND  articles  of  male  and  female  dress  have  been 
washed,  mended,  buttoned,  ironed,  and  mangled  in  the 
Establishment.  And,  by  an  arrangement  with  the  gov- 
ernors of  the  Foundling,  it  is  hoped  that  the  Baby- 
linen  or  THAT  Hospital  will  be  confided  to  the  British 
Washerwoman's  Home! 

"  With  such  prospects  before  it,  is  it  not  sad,  is  it  not 
lamentable  to  think,  that  the  Patronesses  of  the  Society 
have  been  compelled  to  reject  the  applications  of  no 
less  than  three  thousand  eight  hundred  and  one 
British  Washerwomen,  from  lack  of  means  for  their 
support?  Ladies  of  England!  Mothers  of  England! 
to  you  we  appeal.    Is  there  one  of  you  that  will  not  re- 


DOWN   AT   BEULAH  553 

spond  to  the  cry  in  behalf  of  these  desenang  members 
of  our  sex? 

"  It  has  been  determined  by  the  Ladies-Patronesses 
to  give  a  fete  at  Beulah  Spa,  on  Thursday,  July  25; 
which  will  be  graced  with  the  first  foreign  and  native 
talent;  by  the  first  foreign  and  native  rank;  and 
where  they  beg  for  the  attendance  of  every  washer- 
woman's FRIEND." 

Her  Highness  the  Princess  of  Schloppenzollern- 
schwigmaringen,  the  Duke  of  Sacks-Tubbingen,  His 
Excellency  Baron  Strumpff,  His  Excellency  Lootf- 
Allee-Koolee-Bismillah-]Mohamed-Rujsheed-Allah,  the 
Persian  ambassador,  Prince  Futtee-Jaw,  Envoy  from 
the  King  of  Oude,  Plis  Excellency  Don  Alonzo  di  Ca- 
chachero-y-Fandango-y-Castanete,  the  Spanish  Ambas- 
sador, Count  Ravioli,  from  Milan,  the  Envoy  of  the 
Republic  of  Topinambo,  and  a  host  of  other  fashion- 
ables, promised  to  honour  the  festival:  and  their  names 
made  a  famous  show  in  the  bills.  Besides  these,  we  had 
the  celebrated  band  of  Moscowmusiks,  the  seventy- 
seven  Transylvanian  trumpeters,  and  the  famous  Bohe- 
mian Minnesingers ;  with  all  the  leading  artists  of  Lon- 
don, Paris,  the  Continent,  and  the  rest  of  Europe. 

I  leave  you  to  fancy  what  a  splendid  triumph  for  the 
British  Washerwoman's  Home  was  to  come  off  on  that 
day.  A  beautiful  tent  was  erected,  in  which  tlie  Toadies- 
Patronesses  were  to  meet:  it  was  hung  round  with  spe- 
cimens of  the  skill  of  the  washerwomen's  orphans; 
ninety-six  of  whom  were  to  be  feasted  in  the  gardens, 
and  waited  on  by  the  Ladies-Patronesses. 

Well,  Jemmy  and  my  daughter,  ^Madame  de  Flicfiac, 
myself,  the  Count,  Baron  Punter,  Tug,  and  Tagrag, 


554>  COX'S  DIARY 

all  went  down  in  the  chariot  and  barouche-and-four, 
quite  eclipsing  poor  Lady  Kilblazes  and  her  carriage- 
and-two. 

There  was  a  fine  cold  collation,  to  which  the  friends 
of  the  Ladies-Patronesses  were  admitted;  after  which, 
my  ladies  and  their  beaux  went  strolling  through  the 
walks;  Tagrag  and  the  Count  having  each  an  arm  of 
Jemmy;  the  Baron  giving  an  arm  a-piece  to  Madame 
and  Jemimarann.  Whilst  they  were  walking,  whom 
should  they  light  upon  but  poor  Orlando  Crump,  my 
successor  in  the  perfumery  and  hair-cutting. 

"  Orlando!"  says  Jemimarann,  blushing  as  red  as  a 
label,  and  holding  out  her  hand. 

"  Jemimar!"  says  he,  holding  out  his,  and  turning 
as  white  as  pomatum. 

"  Sir! "  says  Jemmy,  as  stately  as  a  duchess. 

"  What !  madam,"  says  poor  Crump,  "  don't  you  re- 
member your  shopboy? " 

"  Dearest  mamma,  don't  you  recollect  Orlando? " 
whimpers  Jemimarann,  whose  hand  he  had  got  hold  of. 

"  Miss  Tuggeridge  Coxe,"  says  Jemmy,  "  I'm  sur- 
prised of  you.  Remember,  sir,  that  our  position  is  al- 
tered, and  oblige  me  by  no  more  familiarity." 

"Insolent  fellow!"  says  the  Baron,  "vat  is  dis  ca- 
naille?" 

"  Canal  yourself,  Mounseer,"  says  Orlando,  now 
grown  quite  furious:  he  broke  away,  quite  indignant, 
and  was  soon  lost  in  the  crowd.  Jemimarann,  as  soon  as 
he  was  gone,  began  to  look  very  pale  and  ill;  and  her 
mamma,  therefore,  took  her  to  a  tent,  where  she  left  her 
along  with  Madame  Flicflac  and  the  Baron;  going  oiF 
herself  with  the  other  gentlemen,  in  order  to  join  us. 

It  appears  they  had  not  been  seated  very  long,  when 
Madame  Flicflac  suddenly  sprung  up,  with  an  exclama- 


DOWN  AT   BEULAH  555 

tion  of  joy,  and  rushed  forward  to  a  friend  whom  she 
saw  pass. 

The  Baron  was  left  alone  with  Jeinimarann ;  and, 
whether  it  was  the  champagne,  or  that  my  dear  girl 
looked  more  than  commonly  pretty,  I  don't  know;  but 
INIadame  Flicflac  had  not  been  gone  a  minute,  when  the 
Baron  dropped  on  his  knees,  and  made  her  a  regular 
declaration. 

Poor  Orlando  Crump  had  found  me  out  by  this  time, 
and  was  standing  by  my  side,  listening,  as  melancholy  as 
possible,  to  the  famous  Bohemian  Minnesingers,  who 
were  singing  the  celebrated  words  of  the  poet  Gothy:— 

"  Ich  bin  ya  hupp  lily  lee,  du  hist  ya  hupp  lily  lee, 
Wir  sind  doch  hupp  lily  lee,  hupp  la  lily  lee." 
"  Chorus— Yodle-odle-odle-odle-odle-odle  hupp ! 
yodle-odle-aw-o-o-o- !  " 

They  were  standing  with  their  hands  in  their  waistcoats, 
as  usual,  and  had  just  come  to  the  "  o-o-o,"  at  the  end  of 
the  chorus  of  the  forty-seventh  stanza,  when  Orlando 
started:  "  That's  a  scream!  "  says  he.  "  Indeed  it  is," 
says  I ;  "  and,  but  for  the  fashion  of  the  thing,  a  very 
ugly  scream  too:  "  when  I  heard  another  shrill  "  Oh!  " 
as  I  thought;  and  Orlando  bolted  off,  crying,  "  By  heav- 
ens, it's  her  voice!  "  "  Whose  voice?  "  says  I.  "  Come 
and  see  the  row,"  says  Tag.  And  off  we  went,  with  a 
considerable  number  of  people,  who  saw  this  strange 
move  on  his  part. 

We  came  to  the  tent,  and  there  we  found  my  poor 
Jemimarann  fainting;  her  mamma  holding  a  smelling- 
bottle;  the  Baron,  on  the  ground,  holding  a  handkerchief 
to  his  bleeding  nose;  and  Orlando  squaring  at  him,  and 
calling  on  him  to  fight  if  he  dared. 

My  Jemmy  looked  at  Crump  very  fierce.    "  Take  that 


556  COX'S  DIARY 

feller  away,"  says  she;  "  he  has  insulted  a  French  noble- 
man, and  deserves  transportation,  at  the  least." 

Poor  Orlando  was  carried  off.  "  I've  no  patience  with 
the  little  minx,"  says  Jemmy,  giving  Jemimarann  a 
pinch.  "  She  might  be  a  Baron's  lady;  and  she  screams 
out  because  his  Excellency  did  but  squeeze  her  hand." 

"Oh,  mamma!  mamma!"  sobs  poor  Jemimarann, 
"  but  he  was  t-t-tipsy." 

"  T-t-tipsy!  and  the  more  shame  for  you,  you  hussy, 
to  be  oif  ended  with  a  nobleman  who  does  not  know  what 
he  is  doing." 

AUGUST— A    TOURNAMENT 

"  I  SAY,  Tug,"  said  Mac  Turk,  one  day  soon  after  our 
flare-up  at  Beulah,  "  Kilblazes  comes  of  age  in  October, 
and  then  we'll  cut  you  out,  as  I  told  you:  the  old  bar- 
beress  will  die  of  spite  when  she  hears  what  we  are  going 
to  do.  What  do  you  think?  we're  going  to  have  a  tour- 
nament! "  "  What's  a  tournament?  "  says  Tug,  and  so 
said  his  mamma  when  she  heard  the  news ;  and  when  she 
knew  what  a  tournament  was,  I  think,  really,  she  was 
as  angry  as  Mac  Turk  said  she  would  be,  and  gave  us 
no  peace  for  days  together.  "  What!  "  says  she,  "  dress 
up  in  armour,  like  play-actors,  and  run  at  each  other  with 
spears?  The  Kilblazes  must  be  mad!"  And  so  I 
thought,  but  I  didn't  think  the  Tuggeridges  would  be 
mad  too,  as  they  were :  for,  when  Jemmy  heard  that  the 
Kilblazes'  festival  was  to  be,  as  yet,  a  profound  secret, 
what  does  she  do,  but  send  down  to  the  Morning  Post  a 
flaming  account  of 

"  THE    PASSAGE    OF    ARMS    AT    TUGGERIDGEVILLE  I 

"  The  days  of  chivalry  are  not  past.  The  fair  Cas- 
tellane  of  T-gg-r-dgeville,  whose  splendid  entertain- 


A  TOURNAMENT  557 

ments  have  so  often  been  alluded  to  in  this  paper,  has 
determined  to  give  one,  which  shall  exceed  in  splendour 
even  the  magnificence  of  the  JSIiddle  Ages.  We  are  not 
at  liberty  to  say  more;  but  a  tournament,  at  which  His 
Ex-l-ncy  B-r-n  de  P-nt-r  and  Thomas  T-gr-g,  Esq., 
eldest  son  of  Sir  Th-s  T-gr-g,  are  to  be  the  knights- 
defendants  against  all  comers;  a  Queen  of  Beauty,  of 
whose  loveliness  every  frequenter  of  fashion  has  felt  the 
power;  a  banquet,  unexampled  in  the  annals  of  Gunter; 
and  a  ball,  in  which  the  recollections  of  ancient  chivalry 
will  blend  sweetly  with  the  soft  tones  of  Weippert  and 
Collinet,  are  among  the  entertainments  which  the  Ladye 
of  T-gg-ridgeville  has  prepared  for  her  distinguished 
guests." 

The  Baron  was  the  life  of  the  scheme:  he  longed  to  be 
on  horseback,  and  in  the  field  at  Tuggeridgeville,  where 
he,  Tagrag,  and  a  number  of  our  friends  practised :  he 
was  the  very  best  tilter  present;  he  vaulted  over  his  horse, 
and  played  such  wonderful  antics,  as  never  were  done 
except  at  Ducrow's. 

And  now— oh  that  I  had  twenty  pages,  instead  of  this 
short  chapter,  to  describe  the  wonders  of  the  day!— 
Twenty-four  knights  came  from  Ashley's  at  two  guiiicas 
a  head.  We  were  in  hopes  to  have  had  Miss  Woolford 
in  the  character  of  Joan  of  Arc,  but  that  Eady  did  not 
appear.  We  had  a  tent  for  the  challengers,  at  cacli  side 
of  which  hung  wliat  they  called  cscoachin^s,  (Hke  hatch- 
ments, which  they  put  up  when  people  die,)  and  under- 
neath sat  their  pages,  holding  their  helmets  for  the 
tournament.  Tagrag  was  in  brass-armour  (my  City 
connections  got  liim  that  famous  suit)  ;  his  Excellency  in 
polished  steel.  My  wife  wore  a  coronet,  modelled  exactly 
after  that  of  QuJen  Catharine,  in  "  Ilemy  V.;  "  a  tight 


558  COX'S  DIARY 

gilt  jacket,  which  set  off  dear  Jemmy's  figure  wonder- 
fully, and  a  train  of  at  least  forty  feet.  Dear  Jemimar- 
ann  was  in  white,  her  hair  braided  with  pearls.  Madame 
de  Flicflac  appeared  as  Queen  Elizabeth;  and  Lady 
Blanche  Bluenose  as  a  Turkish  princess.  An  alderman 
of  London  and  his  lady ;  two  magistrates  of  the  county, 
and  the  very  pink  of  Croydon ;  several  Polish  noblemen ; 
two  Italian  counts  (besides  our  Count)  ;  one  hundred 
and  ten  young  officers,  from  Addiscombe  College,  in  full 
uniform,  commanded  by  Major-General  Sir  Miles  Mul- 
ligatawney,  K.C.B.,  and  his  lady;  the  Misses  Pimminy's 
Finishing  Establishment,  and  fourteen  young  ladies,  all 
in  white :  the  Reverend  Doctor  Wapshot,  and  forty-nine 
young  gentlemen,  of  the  first  families,  under  his  charge 
— were  some  only  of  the  company.  I  leave  you  to  fancy 
that,  if  my  Jemmy  did  seek  for  fashion,  she  had  enough 
of  it  on  this  occasion.  They  wanted  me  to  have  mounted 
again,  but  my  hunting-day  had  been  sufficient;  besides, 
I  ain't  big  enough  for  a  real  knight:  so,  as  Mrs.  Coxe 
insisted  on  my  opening  the  Tournament— and  I  knew  it 
was  in  vain  to  resist— the  Baron  and  Tagrag  had  under- 
taken to  arrange  so  that  I  might  come  off  with  safety,  if 
I  came  off  at  all.  They  had  procured  from  the  Strand 
Theatre  a  famous  stud  of  hobby-horses,  which  they  told 
me  had  been  trained  for  the  use  of  the  great  Lord  Bate- 
man.  I  did  not  know  exactly  what  they  were  till  they 
arrived ;  but  as  they  had  belonged  to  a  lord,  I  thought  it 
was  all  right,  and  consented ;  and  I  found  it  the  best  sort 
of  riding,  after  all,  to  appear  to  be  on  horseback  and  walk 
safely  a-foot  at  the  same  time;  and  it  was  impossible  to 
come  down  as  long  as  I  kept  on  my  own  legs :  besides,  I 
could  cuff  and  pull  my  steed  about  as  much  as  I  liked, 
without  fear  of  his  biting  or  kicking  in  return.    As  Lord 


A  TOURNAMENT  559 

of  the  Tournament,  they  placed  in  my  hands  a  lance,  or- 
namented spirally,  in  blue  and  gold:  I  thought  of  the 
pole  over  my  old  shop  door,  and  almost  wished  myself 
there  again,  as  I  capered  up  to  the  battle  in  my  helmet 
and  breast-plate,  with  all  the  trumpets  blowing  and 
drums  beating  at  the  time.  Captain  Tagrag  was  my 
opponent,  and  preciously  we  poked  each  other,  till, 
prancing  about,  I  put  my  foot  on  my  horse's  petticoat 
behind,  and  down  I  came,  getting  a  thrust  from  the  Cap- 
tain, at  the  same  time,  that  almost  broke  my  shoulder- 
bone.  "  This  was  sufficient,"  they  said,  "  for  the  laws  of 
chivalry;  "  and  I  was  glad  to  get  off  so. 

After  that  the  gentlemen  riders,  of  whom  there  were 
no  less  than  seven,  in  complete  armour,  and  the  profes- 
sionals, now  ran  at  the  ring ;  and  the  Baron  was  far,  far 
the  most  skilful. 

"  How  sweetly  the  dear  Baron  rides,"  said  my  wife, 
who  w^as  always  ogling  at  him,  smirking,  smiling,  and 
waving  her  handkerchief  to  him.  "  I  say,  Sam,"  says  a 
professional  to  one  of  his  friends,  as,  after  their  course, 
they  came  cantering  up,  and  ranged  under  Jemmy's 
bower,  as  she  called  it:—"  I  say,  Sam,  I'm  blowed  if  that 
chap  in  harmer  mustn't  have  been  one  of  bus."  And  this 
only  made  Jemmy  the  more  pleased ;  for  the  fact  is,  the 
Baron  had  chosen  the  best  way  of  winning  Jemimarann 
by  courting  her  mother. 

The  Baron  was  declared  conqueror  at  the  ring;  and 
Jemmy  awarded  him  the  i^rize,  a  wreath  of  white  roses, 
which  she  placed  on  his  lance ;  he  receiving  it  gracefully, 
and  bowing,  until  the  plumes  of  his  helmet  mingled  with 
the  mane  of  his  charger,  which  backed  to  the  other  end 
of  the  lists;  then  galloping  back  to  the  place  where 
Jemimarann  was  seated,  he  begged  her  to  place  it  on  his 


560  COX'S  DIARY 

helmet.  The  poor  girl  blushed  very  much,  and  did  so. 
As  all  the  people  were  applauding,  Tagrag  rushed  up, 
and,  laying  his  hand  on  the  Baron's  shoulder,  whispered 
something  in  his  ear,  which  made  the  other  very  angry, 
I  suppose,  for  he  shook  him  off  violently.  "  Chacun  pour 
soi,"  says  he,  "  Monsieur  deTaguerague," — whichmeans, 
I  am  told,  "  Every  man  for  himself."  And  then  he  rode 
away,  throwing  his  lance  in  the  air,  catching  it,  and 
making  his  horse  caper  and  prance,  to  the  admiration  of 
all  beholders. 

After  this  came  the  "  Passage  of  Arms."  Tagrag 
and  the  Baron  ran  courses  against  the  other  champions; 
ay,  and  unhorsed  two  a-piece ;  whereupon  the  other  three 
refused  to  turn  out ;  and  preciously  we  laughed  at  them, 
to  be  sure ! 

"  Now,  it's  our  turn,  Mr.  Chicot"  says  Tagrag,  shak- 
ing his  fist  at  the  Baron:  "  look  to  yourself,  you  infernal 
mountebank,  for,  by  Jupiter,  I'll  do  my  best!"  And 
before  Jemmy  and  the  rest  of  us,  who  were  quite  be- 
wildered, could  say  a  word,  these  two  friends  were  charg- 
ing away,  spears  in  hand,  ready  to  kill  each  other.  In 
vain  Jemmy  screamed;  in  vain  I  threw  down  my  trun- 
cheon: they  had  broken  two  poles  before  I  could  say 
"  Jack  Robinson,"  and  were  driving  at  each  other  with 
the  two  new  ones.  The  Baron  had  the  worst  of  the  first 
course,  for  he  had  almost  been  carried  out  of  his  saddle. 
"  Hark  you,  Chicot!  "  screamed  out  Tagrag,  "  next  time 
look  to  your  head!  "  And  next  time,  sure  enough,  each 
aimed  at  the  head  of  the  other. 

Tagrag's  spear  hit  the  right  place;  for  it  carried  off 
the  Baron's  helmet,  plume,  rose-wreath  and  all;  but  his 
Excellency  hit  truer  still— his  lance  took  Tagrag  on  the 
neck,  and  sent  him  to  the  ground  like  a  stone. 


A  TOURNAMENT  561 

"He's  won!  he's  won!"  says  Jemmy,  waving  her 
handkerchief;  Jemimarann  fainted,  Lady  Blanche 
screamed,  and  I  felt  so  sick  that  I  thought  I  should  drop. 
All  the  company  were  in  an  uproar:  only  the  Baron 
looked  calm,  and  bowed  verj^  gracefully,  and  kissed  his 
hand  to  Jemmy;  when,  all  of  a  sudden,  a  Jewish-looking 
man  springing  over  the  barrier,  and  followed  by  three 
more,  rushed  towards  the  Baron.  "  Keep  the  gate. 
Bob!  "  he  holloas  out.  "  Baron,  I  arrest  you,  at  the  suit 
of  Samuel  Levison,  for — " 

But  he  never  said  for  what;  shouting  out,  "Aha!" 
and  "  Sapprrrristie! "  and  I  don't  know  what,  his  Ex- 
cellency drew  his  sword,  dug  his  spurs  into  his  horse,  and 
was  over  the  poor  bailiff,  and  off  before  another  word. 
He  had  threatened  to  run  through  one  of  the  bailiff's 
followers,  Mr.  Stubbs,  only  that  gentleman  made  way 
for  him;  and  when  we  took  up  the  bailiff,  and  brought 
him  round  by  the  aid  of  a  little  brandy-and-water,  he 
told  us  all.  "  I  had  a  writ  againsht  him,  Mishter  Coxsh, 
but  I  didn't  vant  to  shpoil  shport;  and,  beshidesh,  I 
didn't  know  him  until  dey  knocked  off  his  shteel  cap !  " 
****** 

Here  was  a  pretty  business ! 


SEPTEMBER— OVER-BOARDED    AND 
UNDER-LODGED 

We  had  no  great  reason  to  brag  of  our  tournament  at 
Tuggeridgeville :  but,  after  all,  it  was  better  tlian  the 
turn-out  at  Kilblazes,  where  poor  Ijord  Hcydowndcrry 
went  about  in  a  black  velvet  dressiug-gown,  and  tlie  Y.\\\- 
peror  Napoleon  Bonypart  appeared  in  a  suit  of  armour 


562  COX'S  DIARY 

and  silk  stockings,  like  Mr.  Pell's  friend  in  Pickwick; 
we,  having  employed  the  gentlemen  from  Astley's  Anti- 
theatre,  had  some  decent  sport  for  our  money. 

We  never  heard  a  word  from  the  Baron,  who  had  so 
distinguished  himself  by  his  horsemanship,  and  had 
knocked  down  (and  very  justly)  Mr.  Nabb,  the  baihff, 
and  Mr.  Stubbs,  his  man,  who  came  to  lay  hands  upon 
him.  My  sweet  Jemmy  seemed  to  be  very  low  in  spirits 
after  his  departure,  and  a  sad  thing  it  is  to  see  her  in  low 
spirits:  on  days  of  illness  she  no  more  minds  giving 
Jemimarann  a  box  on  the  ear,  or  sending  a  plate  of 
muffins  across  a  table  at  poor  me,  than  she  does  taking 
her  tea. 

Jemmy,  I  say,  was  very  low  in  spirits;  but,  one  day  (I 
remember  it  was  the  day  after  Captain  Higgins  called, 
and  said  he  had  seen  the  Baron  at  Boulogne) ,  she  vowed 
that  nothing  but  change  of  air  would  do  her  good,  and 
declared  that  she  should  die  unless  she  went  to  the  sea- 
side in  France.  I  knew  what  this  meant,  and  that  I 
might  as  well  attempt  to  resist  her  as  to  resist  her  Gra- 
cious Majesty  in  Parliament  assembled;  so  I  told  the 
people  to  pack  up  the  things,  and  took  four  places  on 
board  the  "  Grand  Turk  "  steamer  for  Boulogne. 

The  travelling-carriage,  which,  with  Jemmy's  thirty- 
seven  boxes  and  my  carpet-bag,  was  pretty  well  loaded, 
was  sent  on  board  the  night  before;  and  we,  after  break- 
fasting in  Portland  Place  (little  did  I  think  it  was  the— 
but,  poh!  never  mind) ,  went  down  to  the  Custom  House 
in  the  other  carriage,  followed  by  a  hackney-coach  and  a 
cab,  with  the  servants,  and  fourteen  band-boxes  and 
trunks  more,  which  were  to  be  wanted  by  my  dear  girl  in 
the  journey. 

The  road  down  Cheapside  and  Thames  Street  need 


OVER-BOARDED  AND  UNDER-LODGED  563 

not  be  described:  we  saw  the  ^lonument,  a  memento  of 
the  wicked  Popish  massacre  of  St.  Bartholomew;— why 
erected  here  I  can't  think,  as  St.  Bartholomew  is  in 
Smithfield;— we  had  a  glimpse  of  Billingsgate,  and  of 
the  Mansion  House,  where  we  saw  the  two-and-twenty- 
shilling-coal  smoke  coming  out  of  the  chimneys,  and 
were  landed  at  the  Custom  House  in  safety.  I  felt  mel- 
ancholy, for  we  were  going  among  a  people  of  swindlers, 
as  all  Frenchmen  are  thought  to  be;  and,  besides  not 
being  able  to  speak  the  language,  leaving  our  own  dear 
country  and  honest  countrymen. 

Fourteen  porters  came  out,  and  each  took  a  package 
with  the  greatest  civility;  calling  Jemmy  her  ladyship, 
and  me  your  honour;  ay,  and  your-honouring  and  my- 
ladyshipping  even  my  man  and  the  maid  in  the  cab.  I 
somehow  felt  all  over  quite  melancholy  at  going  away. 
"  Here,  my  fine  fellow,"  says  I  to  the  coachman,  who  was 
standing  very  respectful,  holding  his  hat  in  one  hand  and 
Jemmy's  jewel-case  in  the  other—"  Here,  my  fine  chap," 
says  I,  "  here's  six  shillings  for  you;  "  for  I  did  not  care 
for  the  money. 

"  Six  what?  "  says  he. 

"  Six  shillings,  fellow,"  shrieks  Jemmy,  "  and  twice 
as  much  as  your  fare." 

"  Feller,  marm!  "  says  this  insolent  coaclmian.  "  Fel- 
ler yourself,  marm:  do  you  think  I'm  a-going  to  kill  my 
horses,  and  break  my  precious  back,  and  bust  my  car- 
riage, and  carry  you,  and  your  kids,  and  your  traps,  for 
six  hog?  "  And  with  this  the  monster  drop])ed  his  hat, 
with  my  money  in  it,  and  doubling  his  fist,  put  it  so  very 
near  my  nose  that  I  really  thought  he  would  have  made 
it  bleed.  "My  fare's  heighteen  shilhngs,"  says  he, 
"  hain't  it?— bask  hany  of  these  gentlemen." 


564>  COX'S  DIARY 

"  Why,  it  ain't  more  than  seventeen-and-six,"  says 
one  of  the  fourteen  porters;  "  but  if  the  gen'l'man  is  a 
gen'l'man,  he  can't  give  no  less  than  a  suiFering  any- 
how." 

I  wanted  to  resist,  and  Jemmy  screamed  Hke  a  Turk ; 
but,  "  Holloa!  "  says  one.  "  What's  the  row?  "  says  an- 
other. "  Come,  dub  up!  "  roars  a  third.  And  I  don't 
mind  telling  you,  in  confidence,  that  I  was  so  frightened 
that  I  took  out  the  sovereign  and  gave  it.  My  man  and 
Jemmy's  maid  had  disappeared  by  this  time :  they  always 
do  when  there's  a  robbery  or  a  row  going  on. 

I  was  going  after  them.  "  Stop,  Mr.  Ferguson," 
pipes  a  young  gentleman  of  about  thirteen,  with  a  red 
livery  waistcoat  that  reached  to  his  ankles,  and  every 
variety  of  button,  pin,  string,  to  keep  it  together. 
*'  Stop,  Mr.  Heff ,"  says  he,  taking  a  small  pipe  out  of 
his  mouth,  "  and  don't  forgit  the  cabman." 

"  What's  your  fare,  my  lad?  "  says  I. 

"Why,  let's  see — yes — ho!— my  fare's  seven-and- 
thirty  and  eightpence  eggs— acly." 

The  fourteen  gentlemen  holding  the  luggage,  here 
burst  out  and  laughed  very  rudely  indeed ;  and  the  only 
person  who  seemed  disappointed  was,  I  thought,  the 
hackney-coachman.  "Why,  you  rascal!"  says  Jemmy, 
laying  hold  of  the  boy,  "  do  you  want  more  than  the 
coachman? " 

"  Don't  rascal  me^  marm ! "  shrieks  the  little  chap  in 
return.  "  What's  the  coach  to  me?  Vy,  you  may  go  in 
an  omlibus  for  sixpence  if  you  like ;  vy  don't  you  go  and 
buss  it,  marm?  Vy  did  you  call  my  cab,  marm?  Vy 
am  I  to  come  forty  mile,  from  Scarlot  Street,  Po'tl'nd 
Street,  Po'tl'nd  Place,  and  not  git  my  fare,  marm? 
Come,  give  me  a  suffering  and  a  half,  and  don't  keep 


OVER-BOARDED  AND  UNDER-LODGED  565 

my  boss  a-vaiting  all  day."  This  speech,  Avhich  takes 
some  time  to  write  down,  was  made  in  about  the  fifth 
part  of  a  second;  and,  at  the  end  of  it,  the  young  gen- 
tleman hurled  down  his  pipe,  and,  advancing  towards 
Jemmy,  doubled  his  fist,  and  seemed  to  challenge  her  to 
fight. 

]\Iy  dearest  girl  now  turned  from  red  to  be  as  pale  as 
white  Windsor,  and  fell  into  my  arms.  What  was  I  to 
do?  I  called  "  Policeman!  "  but  a  policeman  won't  in- 
terfere in  Thames  Street;  robber\^  is  licensed  there. 
What  was  I  to  do?  Oh!  my  heart  beats  with  paternal 
gratitude  when  I  think  of  what  my  Tug  did! 

As  soon  as  this  young  cab-chap  put  himself  into  a 
fighting  attitude,  INIaster  Tuggeridge  Coxe — who  had 
been  standing  by  laughing  very  rudely,  I  thought — 
ISIaster  Tuggeridge  Coxe,  I  say,  flung  his  jacket  sud- 
denly into  his  mamma's  face  (the  brass  buttons  made 
her  start  and  recovered  her  a  little) ,  and,  before  we 
could  say  a  word,  was  in  the  ring  in  which  we  stood, 
(formed  by  the  porters,  nine  orangemen  and  women, 
I  don't  know  how  many  newspaper-boys,  hotel-cads,  and 
old-clothesmen),  and,  whirling  about  two  little  white 
fists  in  the  face  of  the  gentleman  in  the  red  waistcoat, 
who  brought  up  a  great  pair  of  black  ones  to  bear  on  the 
enemy,  was  engaged  in  an  instant. 

But  la  bless  you!  Tug  hadn't  been  at  Richmond 
School  for  nothing;  and  milled  away— one,  two,  right 
and  left — like  a  little  hero  as  he  is,  with  all  his  dear 
mother's  spirit  in  him.  First  came  a  crack  which  sent 
a  long  dusky  white  hat— that  looked  damp  and  deep 
like  a  well,  and  had  a  long  black  crape-rag  twisted 
round  it— first  came  a  crack  which  sent  this  white  hat 
spinning  over  the  gentleman's  cab,  and  scattered  among 


566  COX'S  DIARY 

the  crowd  a  vast  number  of  things  which  the  cabman 
kept  in  it, — such  as  a  ball  of  string,  a  piece  of  candle, 
a  comb,  a  whip-lash,  a  little  warbler,  a  slice  of  bacon, 
&c.  &c. 

The  cabman  seemed  sadly  ashamed  of  this  display, 
but  Tug  gave  him  no  time:  another  blow  was  planted 
on  his  cheek-bone;  and  a  third,  which  hit  him  straight 
on  the  nose,  sent  this  rude  cabman  straight  down  to  the 
ground. 

"  Brayvo,  my  lord!"  shouted  all  the  people  around. 

"  I  won't  have  no  more,  thank  yer,"  said  the  little 
cabman,  gathering  himself  up.  "  Give  us  over  my  fare, 
vil  yer,  and  let  me  git  away?  " 

"  What's  your  fare  noWj  you  cowardly  little  thief? " 
says  Tug. 

"  Vy,  then,  two-and-eightpence,"  says  he.  "Go  along, 
— you  know  it  is!"  And  two-and-eightpence  he  had; 
and  everybody  applauded  Tug,  and  hissed  the  cab-boy, 
and  asked  Tug  for  something  to  drink.  We  heard  the 
packet-bell  ringing,  and  all  run  down  the  stairs  to  be 
in  time. 

I  now  thought  our  troubles  would  soon  be  over ;  mine 
were,  very  nearly  so,  in  one  sense  at  least :  for  after  Mrs. 
Coxe  and  Jemimarann,  and  Tug,  and  the  maid,  and 
valet,  and  valuables  had  been  handed  across,  it  came  to 
my  turn.  I  had  often  heard  of  people  being  taken  up 
by  a  Plank,  but  seldom  of  their  being  set  down  by  one. 
Just  as  I  was  going  over,  the  vessel  rode  off  a  little,  the 
board  slipped,  and  down  I  soused  into  the  water.  You 
might  have  heard  Mrs.  Coxe's  shriek  as  far  as  Graves- 
end;  it  rung  in  my  ears  as  I  went  down,  all  grieved  at 
the  thought  of  leaving  her  a  disconsolate  widder.  Well, 
up  I  came  again,  and  caught  the  brim  of  my  beaver- 


NOTICE  TO  QUIT  567 

hat— though  I  have  heard  that  drowning  men  catch  at 
straws:  — I  floated,  and  hoped  to  escape  by  hook  or  by 
crook;  and,  luckily,  just  then,  I  felt  myself  suddenly 
jerked  by  the  waistband  of  my  whites,  and  found  my- 
self hauled  up  in  the  air  at  the  end  of  a  boat-hook,  to  the 
sound  of  "  Yeho!  yeho!  yehoi!  yehoi!"  and  so  I  was 
dragged  aboard.  I  was  put  to  bed,  and  had  swallowed 
so  much  water  that  it  took  a  very  considerable  quantity 
of  brandy  to  bring  it  to  a  proper  mixture  in  my  inside. 
In  fact,  for  some  hours  I  was  in  a  very  deplorable  state. 


OCTOBER— NOTICE    TO    QUIT 

Well,  we  arrived  at  Boulogne ;  and  Jemmy,  after  mak- 
ing inquiries,  right  and  left,  about  the  Baron,  found 
that  no  such  person  was  known  there;  and  being  bent, 
I  suppose,  at  all  events,  on  marrying  her  daughter  to  a 
lord,  she  determined  to  set  oiF  for  Paris,  where,  as  he 

had  often  said,  he  possessed  a  magnificent  hotel 

he  called  it;— and  I  remember  Jemmy  being  mightily 
indignant  at  the  idea;  but  hotel,  we  found  afterwards, 
means  only  a  house  in  French,  and  this  reconciled  her. 
Need  I  describe  the  road  from  Boulogne  to  Paris?  or 
need  I  describe  that  Capitol  itself?  Suffice  it  to  say,  that 
we  made  our  appearance  there,  at  "  ISIurisse's  Hotel," 
as  became  the  family  of  Coxe  Tuggeridge;  and  saw 
everything  worth  seeing  in  the  metropolis  in  a  week.  It 
nearly  killed  me,  to  be  sure ;  but,  when  you're  on  a  plea- 
sure-party in  a  foreign  country,  you  must  not  mind  a 
little  inconvenience  of  this  sort. 

Well,  there  is,  near  the  city  of  Paris,  a  splendid  road 


568  COX'S  DIARY 

and  row  of  trees,  which — I  don't  know  why — is  called 
the  Shandeleez}^  or  Elysian  Fields,  in  French:  others, 
I  have  heard,  call  it  the  Shandeleery;  but  mine  I  know 
to  be  the  correct  pronunciation.  In  the  middle  of  this 
Shandeleezy  is  an  open  space  of  ground,  and  a  tent 
where,  during  the  summer,  Mr.  Franconi,  the  French 
Ashley,  performs  with  his  horses  and  things.  As  every- 
body went  there,  and  we  were  told  it  was  quite  the  thing, 
Jemmy  agreed  that  we  should  go,  too ;  and  go  we  did. 

It's  just  like  Ashley's:  there's  a  man  just  like  Mr, 
Piddicombe,  who  goes  round  the  ring  in  a  huzzah-dress, 
cracking  a  whip ;  there  are  a  dozen  Miss  Woolf ords,  who 
appear  like  Polish  princesses,  Dihannas,  Sultannas,  Ca- 
chuchas,  and  heaven  knows  what!  There's  the  fat  man, 
who  comes  in  with  the  twenty-three  dresses  on,  and 
turns  out  to  be  the  living  skeleton!  There's  the  clowns, 
the  sawdust,  the  white  horse  that  dances  a  hornpipe,  the 
candles  stuck  in  hoops,  just  as  in  our  own  dear  country. 

My  dear  wife,  in  her  very  finest  clothes,  with  all  the 
world  looking  at  her,  was  really  enjoying  this  spectacle 
(which  doesn't  require  any  knowledge  of  the  language, 
seeing  that  the  dumb  animals  don't  talk  it ) ,  when  there 
came  in,  presently,  "  the  great  Polish  act  of  the  Sar- 
matian  horse-tamer,  on  eight  steeds,"  which  we  were 
all  of  us  longing  to  see.  The  horse-tamer,  to  music 
twenty  miles  an  hour,  rushed  in  on  four  of  his  horses, 
leading  the  other  four,  and  skurried  round  the  ring. 
You  couldn't  see  him  for  the  sawdust,  but  everybody 
was  delighted,  and  applauded  like  mad.  Presently,  j^ou 
saw  there  were  only  three  horses  in  front :  he  had  slipped 
one  more  between  his  legs,  another  followed,  and  it  was 
clear  that  the  consequences  would  be  fatal,  if  he  ad- 
mitted any  more.     The  people  applauded  more  than 


NOTICE  TO  QUIT  569 

ever ;  and  when,  at  last,  seven  and  eight  were  made  to  go 
in,  not  wholly,  but  sliding  dexterously  in  and  out,  Avith 
the  others,  so  that  you  did  not  know  which  was  which, 
the  house,  I  thought,  would  come  down  with  applause; 
and  the  Sarmatian  horse-tamer  bowed  his  great  feathers 
to  the  ground.  At  last  the  music  grew  slower,  and  he 
cantered  leisurely  round  the  ring;  bending,  smirking, 
seesawing,  waving  his  whip,  and  laying  his  hand  on 
his  heart,  just  as  we  have  seen  the  Ashley's  people  do. 
But  fancy  our  astonishment  when,  suddenl}^  this  Sar- 
matian horse-tamer,  coming  round  with  his  four  pair  at  a 
canter,  and  being  opposite  our  box,  gave  a  start,  and  a — 
hupp!  which  made  all  his  horses  stop  stock-still  at  an 
instant ! 

"  Albert!  "  screamed  my  dear  Jemmy:  "Albert!  Bah- 
bahbah— baron! "  The  Sarmatian  looked  at  her  for  a 
minute ;  and  turning  head  over  heels,  three  times,  bolted 
suddenly  off  his  horses,  and  away  out  of  our  sight. 

It  was  His  Excellency  the  Baron  de  Punter! 

Jemmy  went  off  in  a  fit  as  usual,  and  we  never  saw  the 
Baron  again ;  but  we  heard,  afterwards,  that  Punter  was 
an  apprentice  of  Franconi's,  and  had  run  away  to  Eng- 
land, thinking  to  better  himself,  and  had  joined  Mr. 
Richardson's  army;  but  Mr.  Richardson,  and  then  Lon- 
don, did  not  agree  with  him ;  and  we  saw  the  last  of  him 
as  he  sprung  over  the  barriers  at  the  Tuggeridgevillc 
tournament. 

"  Well,  Jemimarann,"  says  Jemmy,  in  a  fury,  "  you 
shall  marry  Tagrag;  and  if  I  can't  have  a  baroness  for  a 
daughter,  at  least  you  shall  be  a  baronet's  lady."  Poor 
Jemimarann  only  sighed:  she  knew  it  was  of  no  use  to 
remonstrate. 

Paris  grew  dull  to  us  after  this,  and  we  were  more 


570  COX'S  DIARY 

eager  than  ever  to  go  back  to  London:  for  what  should 
we  hear,  but  that  that  monster,  Tuggeridge,  of  the  City 
— old  Tug's  black  son,  forsooth! — was  going  to  contest 
Jemmy's  claim  to  the  property,  and  had  filed  I  don't 
know  how  many  bills  against  us  in  Chancery !  Hearing 
this,  we  set  off  immediately,  and  we  arrived  at  Boulogne, 
and  set  off  in  that  very  same  "  Grand  Turk  "  which  had 
brought  us  to  France. 

If  you  look  in  the  bills,  you  will  see  that  the  steamers 
leave  London  on  Saturday  morning,  and  Boulogne  on 
Saturday  night;  so  that  there  is  often  not  an  hour  be- 
tween the  time  of  arrival  and  departure.  Bless  us !  bless 
us !  I  pity  the  poor  Captain  that,  for  twenty-four  hours 
at  a  time,  is  on  a  paddle-box,  roaring  out,  "  Ease  her! 
Stop  her!"  and  the  poor  servants,  who  are  laying  out 
breakfast,  lunch,  dinner,  tea,  supper; — breakfast,  lunch, 
dinner,  tea,  supper  again;— for  layers  upon  layers  of 
travellers,  as  it  were;  and,  most  of  all,  I  pity  that  un- 
happy steward,  with  those  unfortunate  tin-basins  that  he 
must  always  keep  an  eye  over.  Little  did  we  know  what 
a  storm  was  brooding  in  our  absence ;  and  little  were  we 
prepared  for  the  awful,  awful  fate  that  hung  over  our 
Tuggeridgeville  property. 

Biggs,  of  the  great  house  of  Higgs,  Biggs,  and 
Blatherwick,  was  our  man  of  business :  when  I  arrived  in 
London  I  heard  that  he  had  just  set  off  to  Paris  after 
me.  So  we  started  down  to  Tuggeridgeville  instead  of 
going  to  Portland  Place.  As  we  came  through  the 
lodge-gates,  we  found  a  crowd  assembled  within  them; 
and  there  was  that  horrid  Tuggeridge  on  horseback,  with 
a  shabby-looking  man,  called  Mr.  Scapgoat,  and  his  man 
of  business,  and  many  more.  "  Mr.  Scapgoat,"  says 
Tuggeridge,  grinning,  and  handing  him  over  a  sealed 


NOTICE  TO  QUIT  571 

paper,  "  here's  the  lease ;  I  leave  you  in  possession,  and 
wish  you  good  morning." 

"  In  possession  of  what?  "  says  the  rightful  lady  of 
Tuggeridgeville,  leaning  out  of  the  carriage-window. 
She  hated  black  Tuggeridge,  as  she  called  him,  like  poi- 
son :  the  very  first  week  of  our  coming  to  Portland  Place, 
when  he  called  to  ask  restitution  of  some  plate  which  he 
said  was  his  private  property,  she  called  him  a  base-born 
blackamoor,  and  told  him  to  quit  the  house.  Since  then 
there  had  been  law-squabbles  between  us  without  end, 
and  all  sorts  of  writings,  meetings,  and  arbitrations. 

*'  Possession  of  my  estate  of  Tuggeridgeville,  mad- 
am," roars  he,  "  left  me  by  my  father's  will,  which  you 
have  had  notice  of  these  three  weeks,  and  know  as  well  as 
I  do." 

"  Old  Tug  left  no  will,"  shrieked  Jemmy;  "  he  didn't 
die  to  leave  his  estates  to  blackamoors — to  negroes — to 
base-born  mulatto  story-tellers;  if  he  did,  may  I  be — " 

"  Oh,  hush!  dearest  mamma,"  says  Jemimarann.  "Go 
it  again,  mother!  "  says  Tug,  who  is  always  sniggering, 

"  What  is  this  business,  Mr.  Tuggeridge?  "  cried  Tag- 
rag  (who  was  the  only  one  of  our  party  that  had  his 
senses) .    "  What  is  this  will?  " 

"  Oh,  it's  merely  a  matter  of  form,"  said  the  lawyer, 
riding  up.  "  For  heaven's  sake,  madam,  be  peaceable; 
let  my  friends,  Higgs,  Biggs,  and  Blatherwick  arrange 
with  me.  I  am  surprised  that  none  of  their  people  are 
here.  All  that  you  have  to  do  is  to  eject  us;  and  the  rest 
will  follow,  of  course." 

"  Who  has  taken  possession  of  this  here  property?  " 
roars  Jemmy,  again. 

"  My  friend  Mr.  Scapgoat,"  said  the  lawyer.— Mr. 
Scapgoat  grinned. 


572  COX'S  DIARY 

"  Mr.  Scapgoat,"  said  my  wife,  shaking  her  fist  at  him 
(for  she  is  a  woman  of  no  small  spirit),  "  if  you  don't 
leave  this  ground,  I'll  have  you  pushed  out  with  pitch- 
forks, I  will— you  and  your  beggarly  blackamoor  yon- 
der." And,  suiting  the  action  to  the  word,  she  clapped 
a  stable  fork  into  the  hands  of  one  of  the  gardeners,  and 
called  another,  armed  with  a  rake,  to  his  help,  while 
young  Tug  set  the  dog  at  their  heels,  and  I  hurrahed  for 
joy  to  see  such  villainy  so  properly  treated. 

"  That's  sufficient,  ain't  it?  "  said  Mr.  Scapgoat,  with 
the  calmest  air  in  the  world.  "  Oh,  completely,"  said  the 
lawyer.  "  Mr.  Tuggeridge,  we've  ten  miles  to  dinner. 
Madam,  your  very  humble  servant."  And  the  whole 
posse  of  them  rode  away. 


NOVEMBER— LAW  LIFE  ASSURANCE 

We  knew  not  what  this  meant,  until  we  received  a 
strange  document  from  Higgs,  in  London— which  be- 
gun, "  Middlesex  to  wit.  Samuel  Cox,  late  of  Portland 
Place,  in  the  city  of  Westminster,  in  the  said  county,  was 
attached  to  answer  Samuel  Scapgoat,  of  a  plea,  where- 
fore, with  force  and  arms,  he  entered  into  one  messuage, 
with  the  appurtenances,  which  John  Tuggeridge,  Esq., 
demised  to  the  said  Samuel  Scapgoat,  for  a  term  which 
is  not  yet  expired,  and  ejected  him."  And  it  went  on 
to  say  that  "  we,  with  force  of  arms,  viz.  with  swords, 
knives,  and  staves,  had  ejected  him."  Was  there  ever 
such  a  monstrous  falsehood?  when  we  did  but  stand  in 
defence  of  our  own ;  and  isn't  it  a  sin  that  we  should  have 
been  turned  out  of  our  rightful  possessions  upon  such  a 
rascally  plea? 


LAW  LIFE  ASSURANCE  573 

Higgs,  Biggs,  and  Blatherwick  had  evidently  been 
bribed;  for — would  you  believe  it? — they  told  us  to  give 
up  possession  at  once,  as  a  will  was  found,  and  we  could 
not  defend  the  action.  ]My  Jemmy  refused  their  pro- 
posal with  scorn,  and  laughed  at  the  notion  of  the  will : 
she  pronounced  it  to  be  a  forgery,  a  vile  blackamoor  for- 
gery ;  and  believes,  to  this  day,  that  the  story  of  its  hav- 
ing been  made  thirty  years  ago,  in  Calcutta,  and  left 
there  with  old  Tug's  papers,  and  found  there,  and 
brought  to  England,  after  a  search  made,  by  order  of 
Tuggeridge  junior,  is  a  scandalous  falsehood. 

Well,  the  cause  was  tried.  Why  need  I  say  anything 
concerning  it?  What  shall  I  say  of  the  Lord  Chief  Jus- 
tice, but  that  he  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  the  wig  he  sits  in  ? 
What  of  IMr. and  Mr. ,  who  exerted  their  elo- 
quence against  justice  and  the  poor?  On  our  side,  too, 
was  no  less  a  man  than  Mr.  Serjeant  Binks,  who, 
ashamed  I  am,  for  the  honour  of  the  British  bar,  to  say 
it,  seemed  to  have  been  bribed  too:  for  he  actually 
threw  up  his  case !  Had  he  behaved  like  Mr.  INIulligan, 
his  junior — and  to  whom,  in  this  humble  way,  I  offer  my 
thanks — all  might  have  been  well.  I  never  knew  such 
an  effect  produced,  as  when  Mr.  Mulligan,  appearing 
for  the  first  time  in  that  court,  said,  "  Standing  here, 
upon  the  pidestal  of  secred  Thamis;  seeing  around  me 
the  arnymints  of  a  profission  I  rispict ;  having  before  me 
a  vinnerable  judge,  and  an  elightened  jury — the  coun- 
thry's  glory,  the  netion's  cheap  defender,  the  poor  man's 
priceless  palladium:  how  must  I  thrimblc,  my  lard,  liow 
must  the  blush  bejew  my  cheek—"  (somebody  cried  out, 
"  O  cheeks!  "  In  the  court  there  was  a  dreadful  roar  of 
laughing;  and  when  order  was  established,  Mr.  Mulligan 
continued:)  — "  My  lard,  I  heed  them  not;  I  come  from 


574  COX'S  DIARY 

a  counthry  accustomed  to  opprission,  and  as  that  coun- 
thry— yes,  my  lard,  that  Ireland—  (do  not  laugh,  I  am 
proud  of  it)  —is  ever,  in  spite  of  her  tyrants,  green,  and 
lovely,  and  beautiful :  my  client's  cause,  likewise,  will  rise 
shuperior  to  the  malignant  imbecility— I  repeat,  the 
MALIGNANT  IMBECILITY— of  thosc  who  would  thramplc 
it  down :  and  in  whose  teeth,  in  mv  client's  name,  in  my 
counthry 's— ay,  and  my  own—1,  with  folded  arrums, 
hurl  a  scarnful  and  eternal  defiance! " 

"  For  heaven's  sake,  Mr.  Milligan  "—  {"  Mulligan, 
ME  LARD,"  cried  my  defender)  — "  Well,  Mulhgan,  then, 
be  calm,  and  keep  to  your  brief." 

Mr.  Mulligan  did ;  and  for  three  hours  and  a  quarter, 
in  a  speech  crammed  with  Latin  quotations,  and  unsur- 
passed for  eloquence,  he  explained  the  situation  of  me 
and  my  family ;  the  romantic  manner  in  which  Tugger- 
idge  the  elder  gained  his  fortune,  and  by  which  it  after- 
wards came  to  my  wife ;  the  state  of  Ireland ;  the  original 
and  virtuous  poverty  of  the  Coxes— from  which  he 
glanced  passionately,  for  a  few  minutes  (until  the  judge 
stopped  him),  to  the  poverty  of  his  own  country;  my 
excellence  as  a  husband,  father,  landlord;  my  wife's,  as 
a  wife,  mother,  landlady.  All  was  in  vain— the  trial 
went  against  us.  I  was  soon  taken  in  execution  for  the 
damages;  five  hundred  pounds  of  law  expenses  of  my 
own,  and  as  much  more  of  Tuggeridge's.  He  would  not 
pay  a  farthing,  he  said,  to  get  me  out  of  a  much  worse 
place  than  the  Fleet.  I  need  not  tell  you  that  along  with 
the  land  went  the  house  in  town,  and  the  money  in  the 
funds.  Tuggeridge,  he  who  had  thousands  before,  had 
it  all.  And  when  I  was  in  prison,  who  do  you  think 
would  come  and  see  me?  None  of  the  Barons,  nor 
Counts,  nor  Foreign  Ambassadors,  nor  Excellencies, 


LAW  LIFE  ASSURANCE  575 

who  used  to  fill  our  house,  and  eat  and  drink  at  our  ex- 
pense,—not  even  the  ungrateful  Tagrag! 

I  could  not  help  now  saying  to  my  dear  wife,  "  See, 
my  love,  we  have  been  gentlefolks  for  exactly  a  year, 
and  a  pretty  life  we  have  had  of  it.  In  the  first  place,  my 
darling,  we  gave  grand  dinners,  and  everybody  laughed 
at  us." 

"  Yes,  and  recollect  how  ill  they  made  you,"  cries  my 
daughter. 

"  We  asked  great  company,  and  they  insulted  us." 
"  And  spoilt  mamma's  temper,"  said  Jemimarann. 
"  Hush!  Miss,"  said  her  mother;  "  we  don't  want  your 
advice." 

"  Then  you  must  make  a  country  gentleman  of  me." 
"  And  send  Pa  into  dunghills,"  roared  Tug. 
"  Then  you  must  go  to  operas,  and  pick  up  foreign 
Barons  and  Counts." 

"  Oh,  thank  heaven,  dearest  papa,  that  we  are  rid  of 
them,"  cries  my  little  Jemimarann,  looking  almost 
happy,  and  kissing  her  old  pappy. 

"  And  you  must  make  a  fine  gentleman  of  Tug  there, 
and  send  him  to  a  fine  school." 

"  And  I  give  you  my  word,"  says  Tug,  "  I'm  as  igno- 
rant a  chap  as  ever  lived." 

"  You're  an  insolent  saucebox,"  says  Jemmy;  "  you've 
learned  that  at  your  fine  school." 

"  I've  learned  something  else,  too,  ma'am;  ask  the  boys 
if  I  haven't,"  grumbles  Tug. 

"  You  hawk  your  daughter  about,  and  just  escape 
marrying  her  to  a  swindler." 

"  And  drive  off  poor  Orlando,"  whimpered  my  girl. 

"  Silence!  Miss,"  says  Jemmy,  fiercely. 

**  You  insult  the  man  whose  father's  property  you  in- 


576  COX'S  DIARY 

herited,  and  bring  me  into  this  prison,  without  hope  of 
leaving  it:  for  he  never  can  help  us  after  all  your  bad 
language."  I  said  all  this  very  smartly;  for  the  fact  is, 
my  blood  was  up  at  the  time,  and  I  determined  to  rate 
my  dear  girl  soundly. 

"  Oh!  Sammy,"  said  she,  sobbing  (for  the  poor  thing's 
spirit  was  quite  broken),  "  it's  all  true;  I've  been  very, 
very  foolish  and  vain,  and  I've  punished  my  dear  hus- 
band and  children  by  my  follies,  and  I  do  so,  so  repent 
them!"  Here  Jemimarann  at  once  burst  out  crying, 
and  flung  herself  into  her  mamma's  arms,  and  the  pair 
roared  and  sobbed  for  ten  minutes  together.  Even  Tug 
looked  queer:  and  as  for  me,  it's  a  most  extraordinary 
thing,  but  I'm  blest  if  seeing  them  so  miserable  didn't 
make  me  quite  happy.  — I  don't  think,  for  the  whole 
twelve  months  of  our  good  fortune,  I  had  ever  felt  so 
gay  as  in  that  dismal  room  in  the  Fleet,  where  I  was 
locked  up. 

Poor  Orlando  Crump  came  to  see  us  every  day;  and 
we,  who  had  never  taken  the  slightest  notice  of  him  in 
Portland  Place,  and  treated  him  so  cruelly  that  day  at 
Beulah  Spa,  were  only  too  glad  of  his  company  now. 
He  used  to  bring  books  for  my  girl,  and  a  bottle  of 
sherry  for  me ;  and  he  used  to  take  home  Jemmy's  fronts 
and  dress  them  for  her ;  and  when  locking-up  time  came, 
he  used  to  see  the  ladies  home  to  their  little  three-pair 
bed-room  in  Holborn,  where  they  slept  now.  Tug  and 
all.  "  Can  the  bird  forget  its  nest?"  Orlando  used  to 
say  (he  was  a  romantic  young  fellow,  that's  the  truth, 
and  blew  the  flute  and  read  Lord  Byron  incessantly, 
since  he  was  separated  from  Jemimarann) .  "  Can  the 
bird,  let  loose  in  eastern  climes,  forget  its  home?  Can 
the  rose  cease  to  remember  its  beloved  bulbul?— Ah,  no! 


FAMILY  BUSTLE  577 

]Mr.  Cox,  you  made  me  what  I  am,  and  what  I  hope  to 
die — a  hairdresser.  I  never  see  a  curhng-irons  before  I 
entered  your  shop,  or  knew  Naples  from  brown  Wind- 
sor. Did  you  not  make  over  your  house,  your  furniture, 
your  emporium  of  perfumery,  and  nine-and-twenty 
shaving  customers,  to  me?  Are  these  trifles?  Is  Jemi- 
marann  a  trifle?  if  she  would  allow  me  to  call  her  so. 
Oh,  Jemimarann,  your  Pa  found  me  in  the  workhouse, 
and  made  me  what  I  am.  Conduct  me  to  my  grave,  and 
I  never,  never  shall  be  different !  "  When  he  had  said 
this,  Orlando  was  so  much  affected,  that  he  rushed  sud- 
denly on  his  hat  and  quitted  the  room. 

Then  Jemimarann  began  to  cry  too.  "  Oh,  Pa!  "  said 
she,  "  isn't  he — isn't  he  a  nice  young  man?  " 

"I'm  hanged  if  he  ain't,"  says  Tug.  "  What  do  you 
think  of  his  giving  me  eighteenpence  yesterday,  and  a 
bottle  of  lavender-water  for  Mimarann?  " 

"  He  might  as  well  offer  to  give  you  back  the  shop  at 
any  rate,"  says  Jemmy. 

"What!  to  pay  Tuggeridge's  damages?  My  dear, 
I'd  sooner  die  than  give  Tuggeridge  the  chance." 


DECEMBER— FAMILY  BUSTLE 

Tuggeridge  vowed  that  I  should  finish  my  days  there, 
when  he  put  me  in  prison.  It  appears  that  we  both  had 
reason  to  be  ashamed  of  ourselves ;  and  were,  thank  God ! 
I  learned  to  be  sorry  for  my  bad  feelings  towards  him, 
and  he  actually  wrote  to  me  to  say — 

"  Sir, — I  think  you  have  suffered  enougli  for  faults 
which,  I  believe,  do  not  lie  with  you,  so  much  as  your 


578  COX'S  DIARY 

wife;  and  I  have  withdrawn  my  claims  which  I  had 
against  you  while  you  were  in  wrongful  possession  of 
my  father's  estates.  You  must  remember  that  when,  on 
examination  of  my  father's  papers,  no  will  was  found, 
I  yielded  up  his  property,  with  perfect  willingness,  to 
those  who  I  fancied  were  his  legitimate  heirs.  For  this 
I  received  all  sorts  of  insults  from  your  wife  and  your- 
self (who  acquiesced  in  them)  ;  and  when  the  discovery 
of  a  will,  in  India,  proved  my  just  claims,  you  must  re- 
member how  they  were  met,  and  the  vexatious  proceed- 
ings with  which  you  sought  to  oppose  them. 

"  I  have  discharged  your  lawyer's  bill;  and,  as  I  be- 
lieve you  are  more  fitted  for  the  trade  you  formerly  ex- 
ercised than  for  any  other,  I  will  give  five  hundred 
pounds  for  the  purchase  of  a  stock  and  shop,  when  you 
shall  find  one  to  suit  you. 

"  I  enclose  a  draft  for  twenty  pounds,  to  meet  your 
present  expenses.  You  have,  I  am  told,  a  son,  a  boy  of 
some  spirit :  if  he  likes  to  try  his  fortune  abroad,  and  go 
on  board  an  Indiaman,  I  can  get  him  an  appointment; 
and  am,  Sir,  your  obedient  servant, 

"  John  Tuggeridge." 

It  was  Mrs.  Breadbasket,  the  housekeeper,  who 
brought  this  letter,  and  looked  mighty  contemptuous  as 
she  gave  it. 

"  I  hope,  Breadbasket,  that  your  master  will  send  me 
my  things  at  any  rate,"  cries  Jemmy.  "  There's  seven- 
teen silk  and  satin  dresses,  and  a  whole  heap  of  trinkets, 
that  can  be  of  no  earthly  use  to  him." 

"  Don't  Breadbasket  me,  mem,  if  you  please,  mem. 
My  master  says  that  them  things  is  quite  obnoxious  to 


FAMILY  BUSTLE  579 

your  sphere  of  life.  Breadbasket,  indeed  I  "  And  so  she 
sailed  out. 

Jemmy  hadn't  a  word;  she  had  grown  mighty  quiet 
since  we  had  been  in  misfortune:  but  my  daughter 
looked  as  happy  as  a  queen ;  and  Tug,  when  he  heard  of 
the  ship,  gave  a  jump  that  nearly  knocked  down  poor 
Orlando.  "Ah,  I  suppose  you'll  forget  me  now?  "  says 
he,  with  a  sigh;  and  seemed  the  only  unhappy  person 
in  company. 

"  Why,  you  conceive,  Mr.  Crump,"  says  my  wife, 
with  a  great  deal  of  dignity,  "  that,  connected  as  we  are, 
a  young  man  born  in  a  work — " 

"  Woman!  "  cried  I  (for  once  in  my  life  determined 
to  have  my  own  way) ,  "  hold  your  foolish  tongue.  Your 
absurd  pride  has  been  the  ruin  of  us  hitherto ;  and,  from 
this  day,  I'll  have  no  more  of  it.  Hark  ye,  Orlando,  if 
you  will  take  Jemimarann,  you  may  have  her;  and  if 
you'll  take  five  hundred  pounds  for  a  half  share  of  the 
shop,  they're  yours;  and  thafs  for  you,  Mrs.  Cox." 

And  here  we  are,  back  again.  And  I  write  this  from 
the  old  back  shop,  where  we  are  all  waiting  to  see  the  new 
year  in.  Orlando  sits  yonder,  plaiting  a  wig  for  my 
Lord  Chief  Justice,  as  happy  as  may  be ;  and  Jemimar- 
ann and  her  mother  have  been  as  busy  as  you  can  im- 
agine all  day  long,  and  are  just  now  giving  the  finish- 
ing touches  to  the  bridal-dresses:  for  the  wedding  is  to 
take  place  the  day  after  to-morrow.  I've  cut  seventeen 
heads  off  (as  I  say)  this  very  day;  and  as  for  Jemmy,  I 
no  more  mind  her  than  I  do  the  Emperor  of  China  and 
all  his  Tambarins.  Last  night  wc  had  a  merry  meeting 
of  our  friends  and  neighbours,  to  celebrate  our  reappear- 
ance among  them ;  and  very  merry  we  all  were.    We  had 


580  COX'S  DIARY 

a  capital  fiddler,  and  we  kept  it  up  till  a  pretty  tidy  hour 
this  morning.  We  begun  with  quadrills,  but  I  never 
could  do  'em  well ;  and  after  that,  to  please  Mr.  Crump 
and  his  intended,  we  tried  a  gallopard,  which  I  found 
anything  but  easy :  for  since  I  am  come  back  to  a  life  of 
peace  and  comfort,  it's  astonishing  how  stout  I'm  get- 
ting. So  we  turned  at  once  to  what  Jemmy  and  me  ex- 
cels in — a  country  dance;  which  is  rather  surprising,  as 
we  was  both  brought  up  to  a  town  life.  As  for  young 
Tug,  he  showed  off  in  a  sailor's  hornpipe:  which  Mrs. 
Cox  says  is  very  proper  for  him  to  learn,  now  he  is  in- 
tended for  the  sea.  But  stop !  here  comes  in  the  punch- 
bowls ;  and  if  we  are  not  happy,  who  is  ?  I  say  I  am  like 
the  Swish  people,  for  I  can't  flourish  out  of  my  native 
hair. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 

This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


i!)  rfc'd  ld-urc 
"mar  20  1983 


PSD  2343    9/77 


V<r 


3  1158  00846  6863 


PR 
t^607 
B32 
1923 


LIBRARY  FACIUTJ 


liUlilllllili'i 

til 


